


China

by Love_is_pain



Series: they say love is pain (but it's in our veins) [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Apparently we're known for angst, F/M, Sequel to Scotland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-05-17 03:39:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14824563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_is_pain/pseuds/Love_is_pain
Summary: He nods, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “Let’s keep it in the back of our heads.”He didn’t want to think about how coming back would mean finding a new coach, a new training location, a new lifestyle. It would mean waking up at the crack of dawn and long days spent pushing his body to the limit. He’d have to try new costumes and listen to hours of music over and over. Somehow he’d have to fit his life back into the mold the ISU would want.But— even after all of that— after all the glitz and glam and sweat and tears, he’d get to spend it right back in his favorite place.Next to Tessa.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to our editors! This is a sequel to Scotland it will be much more enjoyable if read as intended, https://archiveofourown.org/works/13768269/chapters/31643922

Scott squints at the striped wall, watching as the long rectangles seem to flicker slightly. He focuses harder and notices that the sunlight reflecting off his watch has created a stripe illusion on the wall. A slight shiver breaks his staring contest and he glances at the clock. 

  
“Scott,” the therapist calmly interrupts. 

 

Scott sighs and shakes his head to still his daydreams. “Yeah.” 

 

“Listen to me Scott, I really want to help you, but the more time you spend staring at the wall the less we can actually accomplish in a session and--”

 

“The harder it’ll be to feel better. I get it, I really do but it’s just...all mixed up in my head,” he murmurs, avoiding eye contact. 

 

“I know. We’ve been getting somewhere; I don’t want you to think that we’re not. But the list is only the first part of it.” 

 

Scott rubs his palms with his fingertips before clenching them tightly together. They had made a list when they first started - a list that named all the things that made Scott feel overwhelmed. Things that keep him up at night and distract him during the day.

 

He did not understand how she so easily could scribble down all the things in her notebook and tuck it away before he had even written the date. For Scott, it didn’t seem so clear cut. The reasons and explanations all seemed to blend together like his morning smoothie when it turned green from the spinach--when the berries and banana and almond milk were absorbed into this thick substance and it was impossible to tell anything apart. 

 

So, unlike his partner, who had written the graduate thesis of lists, he had taken the full week to write it like his therapist suggested. He had found himself thinking about it constantly. He thought about it in the shower, in the car, out in his backyard sitting on the fence, in his bed at night (because sleeping still wasn’t easy), while he brewed his coffee in the morning. 

 

Eventually he managed to come up with this sort of half-assed “list.” The first bullet point he’d managed to scribble down was  _ expectation. _ The world had expectations for Scott Moir, his parents had expectations, his brothers had expectations, his aunts, uncles, cousin, nephews, nieces, buddies, Kaitlyn, Tessa… but loudest of all of them was his own goddamn expectations for himself. What if he really amounted to nothing post-Olympics? 

 

(Was he anything without Tessa?)

 

His eyes flit back to the run in the wallpaper just over his therapist’s shoulder. 

 

“Can I see the list?” 

 

“It’s not really done yet.” He lies as he feels the crumpled-up paper burning a hole in his pocket. 

 

“Scott, it’s been four sessions already. I really think it’s time we talked about what you wrote. That way we can begin to tackle some of your fears.” 

 

“It’s nothing you can fix.” 

 

“I’m not here to fix anything. I’m just here to help make things a little easier for you.”

 

Scott shifts uncomfortably on the black leather couch. He thinks about the second thing on the list.  _ Guilt. _ He carries a sort of guilt he can’t explain. He feels like he’s taken so much from so many different people, but he in turn hasn’t given back to them. All he has to show for it is a drawer full of medals. How do you go about repaying these people? As if there was a way to get back the memories he’d missed. How does he slide back into the lives of his nieces and nephews after being absent? Take his seat at the table when he isn’t the same person he was the last time he sat there? After all, how can he explain the guilt he feels to his parents? They can’t possibly understand, not when he himself doesn’t.

 

The therapist clicks her pen closed. “Alright Scott, you have to give me something. You’re paying me to help you. Now, you can come here every week and we can sit in silence for an hour, or we can actually start to unpack your troubles and take away some of your pain. It’s up to you.”

 

If it had been up to him things wouldn’t have gotten this bad in the first place. “I don’t know what to tell you. My life is a fucking mess right now. That’s no one’s fault but my own.”

 

_ Anger.  _ Anger is the third thing on his list. There are minutes, hours, sometimes days where he feels unexplainable anger towards the world. Anger that flares up and gets directed at people he doesn’t mean to hurt. Anger that ripped through his best friend of 17 years like a forest fire. 

 

And the feeling of not meeting expectations fuels the guilt and then it’s an endless cycle that his life is cemented into. 

 

Another click means the pen has resumed its position on the legal pad. “Ok, and why is it your fault?”  

 

Great, now he has no way out of this. He glances at his watch, silently cheering when he sees only twenty minutes remain. “Because I went and screwed everything up. Like I always did.” He takes another moment before practically spilling the next part. “Like I always do to be perfectly honest with you.”

 

“Can you give me some examples that we can unpack?” 

 

Oh, he could give her examples. He could take the next ten sessions telling her about all the people and things he’d damaged or hurt. 

 

“I ruined my relationship with my best friend.”

 

His therapist glances at him over her glasses. “Tessa?”

 

_ Yes of course Tessa. Who else could it be?  _

 

“No, Charlie. Charlie White.” 

 

If she’s confused, she hides it well. “Ok, how did you ruin that?” 

 

“After Vancouver-- I don’t know, things just started to fall apart. Tessa had her second surgery and I was angry. I said some things to them before Worlds--”

 

Why was it getting harder to speak? Since when did his broken bromance with the American make him emotional? 

 

This feeling of being stuck in a cycle sneaks up on him sometimes and turns into full blown anxiety attacks. He doesn’t really tell anyone they happen (Tessa knows). He can hide them (but not from her). He hides it so well (she can see through everything) that no one noticed when he was falling apart at the dinner table because his cousin was talking about her wedding. They couldn’t tell his entire body was strangling him from the inside when his youngest nephew refused to go to him. So he had walked away from the situation to deal with it on his own. Because that’s the best way to avoid collateral damage. If you shut everyone out...there’s no one left to hurt. 

 

_ Hurt.  _ The fourth thing on the list.

 

Scott takes a deep breath. “And by the time we got to Sochi-- everything was a mess for Tessa and I. We, um-- ok not we,  _ I  _ made some offhanded comments and of course it got around.”

 

The therapist nods. “So things didn’t end too well I take it… with Charlie.” She scribbles a few more notes on the paper like she’s beginning to understand his twisted life. 

 

As if she could even begin to understand. This is only the pinpoint tip of the iceberg, threatening to drown him as he floats aimlessly along with no direction. 

 

“We haven’t spoken-- and I mean actually held a legitimate conversation-- since before the Games.” 

 

“Do you think this is affecting other aspects of your life?” 

 

He doesn’t want to tell people (see: his therapist) how much he actually hurts inside. How much it hurts to not enjoy going out with his friends, so instead he’d drowns himself in alcohol because the burn feels better than pain. He hurts physically somedays too. His body ached as he got out of bed at 12pm last Tuesday. How can he hurt when he isn’t training? 

 

It hurts him to watch his Mother look at him like a sad story and to have his Father to pat him on the back and say ‘it’ll get better.’ It hurts that he is sort of in a relationship that doesn’t make him happy. And his friendships that do make him happy he’s slowly ruining to make himself feel worse. 

 

He wants to tell her that Charlie is the least of his worries. “Sure. I guess.” His gruff response follows. 

 

“So we have one thing you might have screwed up, what else?”  

 

He covers his eyes. When he refuses to add to his first confession she pushes a new topic.

 

“Scott, what made you want to come to therapy? What made you realize ‘I need help here’?”

 

Through the backs of his eyelids he can see his broken face reflected in Tessa’s eyes in the cold wind of that dark Scotland night. He can feel her hand threaded through the hair on the back of his neck, coaxing him to open up, supporting him-- he had felt for just a moment, the first moment in the last six months, that it was going to be okay again. That life wasn’t going to be a chore, constantly treading through murky water. That it was possible to feel light and limitless. It was that fleeting feeling that made him believe and he had held onto it like a prayer. 

 

“A promise.”

 

“Promise?” she asks.

 

Scott opens his eyes wide at her.  _ Had he said that out loud?  _

  
“We made a promise to get better together.” 

 

“You and Tessa?”

  
Scott averts eye contact. He sits the last two minutes in silence, his therapist watching him intently. 

 

“Okay Scott, that’s all the time we have for today. I’d really like to see that list.” 

 

Scott stands up and walks over to her chair. “Can I use this?” He snatched the pen from her hand before she responds. Removing the crumpled sheet of paper he’s had in his pocket for the last three sessions, he crouches down before smoothing it over the coffee table. He re-writes what he’s erased from the last line of the list fourteen times. 

 

_ Tessa. _

 

He puts her pen flat on the paper. “List,” he gestures with a nod. He wastes no time striding out of the room, closing the door behind himself and walking through the lobby past the check-in girl Becky with the too blonde hair. 

 

_ Expectations. Guilt. Anger. Hurt. Tessa. _

 

___________________________________________

  

“Rough session?” Scott’s shoulders relax as she speaks. Tessa hopes he didn’t spend his whole session so tense. 

 

“It...was...good.” He lies. She knows. They move on.  

 

She lets her eyes flit through the cafe, filled with customers looking for their afternoon pick me up. She stirs her coffee to occupy herself through the awkward moment. “How’s the family?” 

 

“They’re fine. Rink’s still running. Kids are still growing.”  

 

Safe topics, she reminds herself, biting her lip. When did this get hard? She guesses it was somewhere between  _ I love you _ and _ I’m sorry _ . She single handedly took ruining their relationship into her own hands by being selfish. Great work, Tessa. She rolls her shoulders, feeling stiff. Therapy seemed to be making things better, but the self-deprecating thoughts haven’t suddenly disappeared like she had hoped they would. 

 

She used to be her own cheerleader, yet lately it seems like the only things she cheers are her own shortcomings. 

 

In her sessions, they talk a lot...or Tessa talks a lot.  _ Maybe she should talk less _ . She talks throughout the whole session about everything and nothing. Her therapist had actually asked her to slow down a couple of times. To pace her thoughts. But that’s how things are in her head--fast. Everything seems fast and emotions hit her like a bus. Knock her over and she can’t control them. Her emotions own her. In sessions, she’d cried over things she thought she was over, like her parents separation or her grade in that one class last semester. 

 

Then she wrote her list. Her therapist took one look at her miniscule writing and asked her how long she took to write it. Tessa mumbled something like fifteen minutes and the therapist shook her head. She gave her back her list and told her that by her last session her goal was to narrow it down. So Tessa had to pair down the list down from 57 items to a list she could count on her fingers. To date she has crossed off one:  _ closet organization. _

 

“I made a playlist for Lindt on Ice.” 

 

“Clean beats,” Scott jokes, playing with the label on his cup.

 

Tessa forces herself into a more polite laugh instead of her usual large guffaw. 

 

Neither of them ever have plans on Thursdays beside therapy so she can’t even pretend like she has to go to cut this short. Not that she’d want to cut this short. She can’t explain why she still craves this time with him. This horrible awkward conversation isn’t enjoyable but just being in his presence is a fixture in her life she can’t fathom giving up. 

 

Hearing Tessa laugh again, even if forced, makes Scott’s cold exterior melt just a little more than it had last Thursday. He can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. “You’re way ahead of things T-- Tessa. I have to admit I haven’t even thought about it yet.” 

 

_ Could he even use nicknames with her yet?  _

 

“You could just drop it by later.”  _ Too much Scott, backtrack a little bit. _ “Or just email it. I’m starting to learn how to use that now so I might as well practice.”  _ Good. A little joking around could throw her off from your dumb mistakes.  _ Somehow, even when things are already cracked beyond repair, he manages to break everything further. Words spill out of his mouth with her, unlike his therapy sessions, and by the time they’re out there, it’s too late for him to take them back. Joking used to fix over some of the issues but now-- now he doesn’t even know if she can stand that. 

 

Tessa swallows hard when Scott corrects her nickname. She hates that she’s made him feel like he can’t use them. Because he can call her anything and she’ll listen. Tessa presses her fingers to her temples and massages them gently. 

 

“Do you think this is helping?” she asks sharply. 

 

Scott’s head jerks up at her tone, much different than the one she used minutes ago. He blinks, searching her face for clarification.

 

“I’m sorry Tess--” 

 

“Therapy. Like why can’t we… why isn’t this…” she trails off for a moment. “Forget it. I’m sorry.” 

 

“I’m sorry too.” They stare at each other in a peculiar silence, their eyes locking for a longer period than they have in the recent weeks. Her body forces her to hold his gaze. He reaches out tentatively and places his hand on hers that rests on the table. 

 

Her heart beats fast against her rib cage. She flips her hand over and his slots into place. 

 

“I really am, you know, sorry that is.” 

 

Despite her mind panicking from the touch, his hand has always (and would always) fit just so into hers. 

 

He shouldn’t apologize for this. He shouldn’t apologize for the mistakes that she made and he shouldn’t apologize for acting prematurely that night and assuming his relationship with Kaitlyn was over. 

 

Perhaps, she should apologize to herself for being so naive to believe it. “I’m sorry too,” she adds, bouncing her eyes around the room to look anywhere but back at him. He squeezes her hand to seal the apology. 

 

They are still so emotionally distant. If therapy can’t fix this, if apologies can’t fix this, if time can’t fix this… what can? Has she truly broken them for good? She wonders what would’ve happened to their skating if she had let the words tumble out while they were still competing. She’s pretty certain it would have ruined their whole season. She lets her thoughts drift to where they’d be if they were training. In the thick of summer, probably still able talk to each other because Scotland would never have happened. 

 

Maybe a lot of things wouldn’t have happened. Their skating bubble seems so much safer than having the big wide world out at their fingertips. (An ironic thought considering the damage skating had done to them.)

 

Scott clears his throat, hoping to direct the conversation away from the emotion bubbling up in his stomach. “How’s the Virtue clan doing?” He fiddles with the paper on his cup, tearing off the sleeve into small pieces. This is what happens when he gets emotional. He destroys things. Yet another side effect no one told him about when he took the ice all those years ago. 

 

The look on her face (how did he get her smile to disappear so fast?) makes him swallow hard. “I didn’t mean--”

 

“No no, it’s fine. My mom’s great. She’s thinking about buying a cottage.” Her easy transition into a normal discussion lets some of his anxiety dissipate. “On Huron.” 

 

“Virtue girls take the lake. I like it. I can only imagine the pictures that will come out of that.” 

 

_ Smooth Scott. That definitely sounded way more suggestive out loud than it did in your head.  _

 

“Lots of you know-- swimming and um --- barbecuing. Stuff like that.” His hands gesture wildly, pieces of cup falling to the ground as he knocks them off the table in an attempt to convince her of his well intended question. 

 

She smirks in response. Typical Scott, walking himself into a corner and then trying to back out smoothly. It was cute really. 

  
“It’ll be different with her being so far but...she needs a change of scene.” Tessa picks at her nails. “I mean who knows where we’ll be next year.”

 

Scott smiles at the fact that she still refers to life plans as ‘we’. 

 

“Well I mean I don’t know what plans you have or whatever.” She corrects quickly, realizing her always ‘we’ pronoun might not be welcomed anymore. She rambles on, “How’s the house plans?” 

 

“We’re getting somewhere,” he whispers like it’s the best kept secret he’s ever told. 

 

She gives him a small grin, a silent “tell me more please.”

 

He clasps his hands together. “We started putting in the hardwood and it just gives it this glow. Like I can see it coming together now, looking revitalized.” 

 

“It’s good to see you enjoying this.” Tessa speaks tentatively, like she’s afraid he’ll close up shop.

  
Scott tilts his head slightly, his lips parting. His eyes flicker down to the pieces of paper on the table and up to Tessa’s eyes. “It’s true...I am enjoying it really,” the corners of his lips tilt up just so and his eyebrows raise in subtle delight. He continues to talk about paint swatches and varnish finishes; things Tessa doesn’t really understand but she can’t get enough of seeing the way his eyes light up at something again. So she lets him talk and talk, content to just watch. 

 

“What?” he asks her, tilting his forehead downward.

 

Tessa shakes her head slightly and pulls her lips together in a firm pleasant line, “Nothing.” 

 

“So how’s the jewellery stuff? What’s the next steps?” 

 

“It’s coming along. A little harder than I thought it was going to be but Rachel and her team have been really helpful. And England gave me a little extra inspiration.” 

 

“A regular Neil Lane here.” Scott nudges her foot under the table, hoping it isn’t too much. “Rubbing shoulders with the jewellery bosses of the world.” 

 

Tessa rolls her eyes. “I wish. It’s small and local but-- I love it.” 

 

“It’ll be amazing Tessa, I know it.” 

 

A small blush blossoms over her cheeks. She tries desperately to hide it, rubbing her neck to get the blood from coloring it scarlet. “Thanks. It’s going to be awhile before the set is actually done-- a lot of planning and stuff.”

 

“You’re gonna have to give me a sneak preview.” He lets the tension melt even further. 

 

“Well now, that would be cheating. No one gets to see until after it gets approved.” 

 

“Here’s the deal T,” he leans forward and sticks out his pinky like they were seven and nine again. “I’ll give you a sneak peak of the house, if you show me the line.” 

 

“Oooh tough sell Moir.”  _ It feels nice to say that again.  _ “But I guess that’s a fair deal.” 

 

“Maybe you could get me some pieces. I heard Hillberg and Berk jewellery is loved by the ladies. I could use help when it comes to that kind of stuff.” 

 

It is things like this that bring her back. Back to the reality of what will never be. Because he doesn’t love her, not in the way she loves him. So she has to learn to live without his love, or--on the contrary, she’ll continue to live like an addict, holding onto these small doses whenever she can get them because living without them is not even a possibility. 

 

Scott had always thought things were better when Tessa was one part of his life and his significant other was another. He could keep them on either sides of the road and opposite sides of his head. Then things in his head didn’t get so muddled. Perhaps it’s time to call it a day, his latest comment leaving them in an awkward silence. Any time things get too comfortable they clam up and start to bail. 

 

With their drinks long polished off, there is no excuse to keep sitting around one another, explicitly avoiding the elephant taking up the space of the small cafe. At least they had managed to have a real conversation without things getting too weird. A large accomplishment compared to the recent weeks.

 

They don’t talk as they gather their garbage off the table. Tessa opens her paper bag to accept Scott’s cup pieces while Scott wipes the crumbs off the table from Tessa’s long ago eaten cookie. 

 

Halfway to their cars, Scott turns to her, hands shoved awkwardly in his pockets. “Um-- my car is in the shop so--

 

“Oh, do you want a ride?”

 

Scott stares at the pavement. “Well-- um... Kaitlyn is coming to pick me up.” 

 

Tessa feels stupid. Of course Kaitlyn is coming to pick him up.  _ She’s still his girlfriend Tessa, come on.  _ She takes a deep breath, mindful of the breathing techniques her therapist has taught her. “Right-- well I guess I’ll see you next week then?”

 

There was a time in the past when “see you” would be tomorrow, or even in a few hours. Now their visiting time is relegated to a questionable hour at a local Starbucks with stilted conversation. 

 

“We should um-- practice before then. I’m pretty sure my mom would give us some ice time. If you’re free of course. I know you’re super busy and everything so you can just send me the playlist and we can text some ideas between us.” Scott kicks a small pebble into the road, eyes still downcast. 

 

“Would be nice to lace up… let me know. I’ll make time.” Tessa thinks of her planner, too bare for her liking. Anytime she could fill it, she would with pleasure. 

 

“Okay then.” He opens his arms to hug her, his arms squeezing tighter than in the past weeks but still nowhere near what it had been. Now Tessa walks into hugs with him more like handshake than a real hug. She doesn’t let herself give into it. 

 

When his hand sneaks up to rub her back, she feels herself relax a fraction more. Progress. 

 

Scott spins away first, barely giving her a second glance before walking down the road. Tessa hesitates, slipping into her car a moment later. As she turns the corner, she spots Scott sitting on the bench. 

 

Her mind wanders to what he’s _ really _ told Kaitlyn about their meetings.  _ Yeah I’m going to be gone from 2pm till I’m done wasting time with Tessa.  _ The small voice in her head scoffs, immediately rejecting the ridiculousness of the statement. 

 

Whatever he did tell her, she hopes it was close enough to the truth so not to drag them down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, yes there's a bit of mystery here from where we left off ;)
> 
> Follow us/yell at us on tumblr: love-is--pain


	2. Chapter 2

When he is certain Tessa has driven out of sight, Scott dials Kaitlyn’s number. It rings four times and he feels his hands getting sweaty. He repeats the practiced line he’s come up with in his head.   
  


“Hello?”

 

“Hey-- my mom had me do a parent conference so I’m at the Starbucks near the rink. Want to pick me up there? I could also walk back if you’re busy.” 

 

“Oh, I’ll come get you! I think I remember how to get there. I’ll be there soon.” 

 

“Great see you then.” He ends the call with a sigh of relief. It isn’t every week she’s in town. Most of the time he’s traveling to support her and see her. In his own naiveté he thought distance would make things easier than facing the plethora of issues piling up behind them. 

 

He’s tried to keep everything simple. Keep her tucked in the boxes of his head that aren’t messy and protect her from all the things that are wrong with him. He runs his fingers over the rough wood of the bench thinking back to the last night in Scotland. Returning his hand to the worn wooden door of his room. 

 

_ Slowly he lifted the heavy lock and gently pushed the door open. Kaitlyn was there already, her luggage propped open on the chair as she slowly folded a piece of clothing. She glanced at him and made quick eye contact before diverting her gaze.  _

 

_ Scott fumbled his hands together; he may not have been taught how to break relationships apart but he wouldn’t be a Moir if his mother didn’t teach him how to apologize. Sincere apologies meant saying only things you mean.  _

 

_ “Listen, I’m really sorry. I...uhm said a lot of stuff and got out of hand. I’m just really sorry.”  _

 

_ Kaitlyn continued to fold a sweater, the only indication of her attention her labored breathing. After laying the article of clothing into the case, she placed her hands on the sides, shoulders slumping in defeat. “I think-- I think I’m going to fly back to Winnipeg after this. I know I said I’d come back but--,” her voice caught. “I don’t really think that’s the best course of action for us right now.” A few tears tracked their way down her cheeks but she wiped them away with a chuckle. “Just let your family know I’ll take a raincheck.”  _

 

_ “Uhm, okay…” He picked up his own luggage, dumping stuff onto the bed so he could start his packing. He folded a shirt and tucked it into the duffle, all the while watching Kaitlyn from the corner of his eye. He felt drawn to comfort her. He’d always had this internal need to comfort anyone who cried. A tearful child at the rink, an emotional competitor, they all pulled at his heartstrings. Especially when he knew it was his own fault. He tossed the t-shirt to the bed and walked around to her.  _

 

_ “I’m sorry,” he repeated, finally deciding to shuffle over to the other side and tuck her under his arm with a squeeze. They sat on the edge of bed in silence. Each of them trying to finding words to say to each other.  _

 

_ It took her a moment to collect herself. Things seemed like they were almost back to normal with her under his arm, snuggled into his side. It was as if they had not fractured their relationship beyond repair.  _

 

_ “It’s ok.”  _

 

_ Kaitlyn Lawes knew deep down Scott Moir was never hers to keep. Even when they had started dating she understood how wrapped around his childhood partner he was. Sure, he claimed there were no feelings whatsoever, but she could see it in the way he looked at her. She should have known it wasn’t worth trying to change that.  _

 

_ But maybe-- just maybe-- she had thought she could show him the life away from skating and instead give him the white picket fence with 2.5 curling figure skating kids. All he needed to do was try. “It’s not just your fault.”  _

 

_ Realistically, she knew he’d given his heart away long before he knew what that even meant. What she got was the small bits and pieces leftover from the failed attempts of the past. She wondered if that’s what they all got. _

 

_ He almost laughed. “That’s a nice way of putting it. You know that I’ve never done this right? Been in a relationship that doesn’t revolve around me. Every other girlfriend has been ready to follow me around and I was stupid to expect that from you.” The words spilled as he tried to pick up the metaphorical pieces of glass from the room, hopefully without cutting himself.  _

 

_ She rested her head against his shoulder, taking in the last few moments of peace before she pulled away. “So is that it? Are we actually done?” _

 

_ The question hung heavy in the air and she struggled not to draw conclusions with his lack of response. “Because we’d be fooling ourselves if we kept trying to push this if nothing is there.” She grabbed a stray shirt, carefully tucking it into the already packed suitcase. “I don’t want to hold you back Scott. Like I said, I love you too much to make you miserable.”  _

_   
_ _ Scott didn’t want this to be on him. He didn't want to be the one that walked away. Not this time, not when it would disappoint his family and his friends that had warmed to her. He did for a moment have a fleeting thought of Tessa. But he knew Tessa wouldn’t want to be part of this decision. So he pushed the thought away as quickly as it came.  _

_   
_ _ “We shouldn’t walk away so easy. If you want to fight for this...let’s fight for this. I can’t promise it’s going to be perfect but I think we owe it for everything we’ve invested to make sure that we’ve given it our best shot. You know?” _

 

_ Kaitlyn turned to look at him. Her eyes searched his face for any indication he wasn’t serious. “Do you want to fight for this because you still love me?” A small, insecure part of her wished the answer would be absolute with no question.  _

 

_ “Because I will fight for this too. I want everything with you and I will fight to have that. We could be really happy Scott.” She insisted.  _

 

_ Scott nodded. He liked the idea of happy. It had been awhile since he’d felt an ongoing sense of happiness. “Okay… we do this, I still think though if you want to go home and refresh for the weekend and I’ll see you the following week for your curling meet we do that. I think we both need to like...regroup.”  _

 

_ It stung a little. They had agreed to fight for it and he was already letting her go. _

 

_ So she gave him a strained smile. “Yeah-- sounds good. I uh-- I was going to change flights so I could leave tonight. If you still want-- I could stay. I don’t know if you and-- Tessa have plans.” _

 

_ “Don’t feel like you have to leave now...because of me. My only plan was to pack and sleep. I haven’t had much of that,” he scratched at the hair at the back of his neck. He pointedly ignored the comment about Tessa. He didn’t want to get into that now (or ever really). _

 

_ “Oh...” The two stood in awkward silence. When had things become so hard? “Well I guess I can stay. I heard they’re going all out for the final breakfast tomorrow. So maybe--- maybe we can go to that and say goodbye to everyone?”  _

 

_ Scott nodded. “It’s like a picnic or something before the bus comes. Barring it doesn’t rain...it does that a lot here apparently.”  _

 

“Scott...Scott!” His name echoes in Kaitlyn’s voice just like in his head and he pushes himself off the bench slipping into the passenger seat of his Dad’s car. 

 

“Did you want me to drive?”  

 

“Hi.” She greets him slowly as if reminding him of normal conversation order. 

 

“Right hi,” he leans across the center console to peck her cheek.

 

“You can drive. You know this place better.” 

 

Kaitlyn chuckles. 

 

“What?” Scott asks, confused. 

 

“What were you thinking about sitting there?” 

 

Scott panics a bit, brain desperately reaching for some kind of excuse. “Oh, just about the meeting with the parent. Lots of ideas to mull over. You know all that fun skating stuff.” He reaches over to the fiddle with the volume dials as he begins to drive. “Uh what-- what did you do?”

 

Kaitlyn jumps, jolted by the music. “Your cousin and I went out to lunch. I then picked up a few things for tonight.”

 

Shit. He’d completely forgotten they’d had anything planned. “Tonight?”

 

“Scott,” Kaitlyn murmurs, a little annoyed. “Dinner? With your parents?”

 

Another dinner? Didn’t they just have one? “Oh... um yeah of course.”

 

She turns from the window to look at him. “You’re going to use your cooking magic to woo us all. I even got some chocolate so you can surprise them with dessert.” 

 

“Okay...I can do that.” He says it with confidence to convince himself he can do it. He glances at the clock and wonders what time this so-called dinner is happening. Perhaps he can make something that requires prep-time during the entertaining so he can avoid four-person conversation. 

 

Halfway through their journey home, he feels the telltale signs of panic wash over him. He tries to allow the cool breeze and country air to help cool down his body and racing heart rate. He swallows hard fighting back tears as he looks over at Kaitlyn, completely unaware of him crumbling beside her. This was something he really needed to mention to his therapist.

 

Until then he tries to use Tessa’s words of wisdom. _Narrow your focus._ _Focus on breathing first_ , _then heart rate. Imagine I’m saying these words to you...like our warm-up hug._

 

Somehow Tessa’s voice manages to pull him back, grounding him to the dusty country road he knows so well. It’s almost as if a wave of calm has washed over him, leaving him completely at ease. 

 

_ Funny how just the thought of her is enough to make everything better. _

 

“You ok? You’re a little quiet.”

 

_ He must have gotten really good at hiding things.  _ “Yeah... I’m good.” He smiles reassuringly, reaching over to squeeze her hand. 

 

It isn’t long before they’re pulling into his driveway, slamming the doors behind them as they make their way into the house. He drops the keys on the entry room table, toeing off his shoes without a second thought.

 

“Scotty?” 

 

Shit, his mom is home. “Uh-- hi mom.” It’s no surprise when his heart starts to speed up again.

 

He watches as Katilyn waltzes into the kitchen, deciding to follow after her in case the conversation drifts to the afternoon. While his mother has never been a liar, he hopes that she might throw him a lifeline.

 

“How was the--,” seeing Kaitlyn, Alma immediately backtracks. “The meeting. How was the meeting?” 

 

“He was daydreaming about it from the moment I picked him up.”

 

Alma glances at her son, noting his strained expression. “I take it went well then?” 

Scott washes his hands meticulously, a headache suddenly throbbing and he finds words to add to the conversation, “Mhm, it was okay. Lots of thinking to do.” He jokes to counter, “You know skating parents.” 

 

Alma chuckles softly, “I’m one of them!” 

 

“Speaking of skating mom-- Tessa and I need ice time for Lindt on ice. To plan. For our sessions.” He looks up to gauge Kaitlyn’s reaction but she seems preoccupied with unpacking the groceries she’d bought for him to make dinner with.

 

“I’ll see what I have open. I’m sure I can find you something in the morning or late at night. Just let her know it won’t be prime time.”

 

For the first time that day, Scott’s face breaks out into a wide grin. “Yeah-- of course. Whenever is fine.” Without another word, he struts over to kiss her cheek before repeating the action on Kaitlyn. “Alright ladies I’m going to start cooking so get lost.” 

 

Alma studies her son intently, watching as he transforms from the cracked shell of his former self into a whole other person. All at the thought of time with his-- ex? Had the two even decided what they were yet? 

 

“Look at you, Mr. Energy.” Kaitlyn teases, elbowing him in the side. “I’m making appetizers so you’re gonna have to share.” 

 

He rolls his eyes childishly. “As long as you stay in your lane.”  Kaitlyn giggles. 

 

“Oh and Mom, if you have any say Tessa--”.

 

“Doesn’t like early mornings, I know Scotty.” Alma pats his back before walking out of the kitchen, a soft smile on her face. He steps away from Kaitlyn before unlocking his phone and texting Tessa.

 

“Scott?” Kaitlyn beckons.

 

“Hold on a sec, I’ll be right back. Just-- start cutting up some of the veggies.” He doesn’t get the chance to catch her disappointed look before flopping onto the couch, excitedly tapping out a series of texts. 

 

**_To T_ **

**_From Scott_ **

**_Mom says she can get us some ice this week. Most likely morning or late night. I already put the preference of late night. But if it ends up being a morning i’ll buy you your coffee hot chocolate thing to make you feel better ;)_ **

 

___________________________________________

 

 

Tessa takes a gentle sip of her freshly re-filled glass of wine. _ Perk of not training, unguilty refills of wine. _ She leans over the counter, scratching what seems like a dried spill. She opens her cupboard, pulling out a lysol wipe to scrub the counter. 

 

_ “I could eat off your floor T”, _ Scott had told her the first time he came over. He knew that unnecessary cleaning was just another way to fill every minute of her day. His mouth had pressed into a flat line as he gently suggested they sit elsewhere when she wanted to refold the towels a second time after Scott had washed his hands. 

 

She takes another gulp of her wine, thinking about sitting across from him in her living room, his hands clasped together as he dropped the GF-bomb. 

 

Tessa had known from the moment she’d let him that evening, he had something important to say. She’d watched as he fumbled through simple greetings and inconspicuous small talk. 

 

_ After an awkward back-and-forth he cleared his throat, looking just over her shoulder to stare at some invisible blemish on the wall.  _

 

_ “Tessa—” _

 

_ Nothing good ever came from her name being said carefully, as if he was afraid to upset some kind of balance between the two. She could see the tenseness in his body, feel the stress radiating off of his skittish fingers.  _

 

_ This was not going to be fun. Her skin crawled and she rolled her shoulders back, her chest naturally protecting herself from whatever blow was forthcoming, an action that appeared confident despite her crumbling insides.  _

 

_ He ran his hand over his face before beginning, “I don’t...I’ve made a mistake. And I thought it was over and Kaitlyn wants...we want..she wants...we’re going to try and fix what’s left of our relationship. And I don’t want to hurt you and I don’t know what promises we made in Scotland. But--,” he stood up from his chair crouching in front of her and taking her hands into his. “I meant my promise about getting better together. Don’t you worry about that. We’re going to do our thing to fix ourselves together. And this won’t affect us but I just...you deserve to know.”  _

 

_ She thought he’d shattered her in Scotland. Thought her heart had suffered the biggest blow since the burden of her injury had wedged them apart and forced them to start over.  _

 

_ But this— this had sucked all of the air out of the room. His eyes held hers pleadingly, forcing her to draw in a steady breath. “That’s— Scott that’s great.” _

 

What did you expect Tessa? This is the man who can’t be single for more than two weeks without self-imploding. Because if Scott was anything- he was determined. And she knew if he was going to work for it, then he’d put 100% into it to and see it through. This was a forever kind of thing. 

 

_ “I’m proud of you. You and Kaitlyn are good together.” She would hold it together if it killed her.  _

 

_ He studied her face, knowing that she was lying to him. He could tell in the way her eyes crinkled and the way her fingers left his to tuck under her thighs. But he had to keep these parts of his life separate. Kaitlyn on one side, Tessa on the other.  _

 

_ “You’re still with me right, we’re going to...get help?” he asked her slowly. He squinted hard to not allow the threatening tears to fall as his face grew hot. “I can’t do this without you.” He choked as the words tumbled out.  _

 

_ Things after that moved very quickly. One moment he was practically begging her to accept his new life, the next she was on the ground, prying open his stiff frame. “Scott? Scotty listen to me.” _

 

_ His lack of response scared her. “You’re ok. Narrow your focus to me.” She was rewarded with his eyes, completely terrified, locking on hers. “Good. Now let’s work on your breathing. Focus on deep breaths. Heart rate next ok?” _

 

_ Their hands intertwined, squeezing together. “Think about it just like our warm up hug, eh?” The world around him and his emotions were overwhelming. But Tessa… he could hear, feel her. He struggled to follow her instructions like a life-line holding him above water. Just him and Tessa, just like their warm-up hug.  _

 

_ He felt her arm wrap around him, holding his shaking body to hers. She stroked the back of his neck with her thumb and he could feel her heartbeat, forcing his muscles to relax into her hold and willing his heartbeat to match hers.  _

 

_ “There you go. In and out.” After a few more moments of shaky silence, she had pulled away, hands still keeping her connected to him. He continued to feel small, a far cry from the strong partner she knew so well. “I’m right here with you. I’m not going to go anywhere Scott.”  _

 

_ Tessa bit her lip, preparing herself for the onslaught of emotion. “I’m always going to be here. We'll always be bes— friends. No matter what. Even if you go off and become Canada’s most wanted coach with curling babies who land quads I’ll still be Tessa Virtue, Scott Moir’s ol’ ice dance partner.” _

 

_ He wished he could laugh at her attempt of a joke but even laughing seemed like a chore. He slowly leaned over, resting his head on Tessa’s lap. He managed to whisper a thank you but it came out barely audible. He let his eyes flutter closed by her gentle touch, fingers carding through his unruly mane. “Wish things were different T,” he added quietly.  _

_   
_ _ “It will be Scotty, when we start therapy they’ll make it better.”  _

 

And to some extent it was. Ok sure, maybe they could barely handle a coffee shop conversation but at least he could look into her eyes for a solid three seconds. 

 

She scoffs, downing the rest of her glass. They were also at the point where Scott could finally use more than one sentence to communicate. 

 

_ Look at how far we’ve come _ , Tessa thinks bitterly. She’s drowning her sorrows in a cheap bottle of wine while he’s romancing with his serious and committed girlfriend. It didn’t take long after Scott telling her about Kaitlyn for her to realize how naive she had been to assume it was really over after their heated argument. She should’ve known that Scott, much like her, had been acting on emotions rather than common-sense. There was no way it was going to be so simple-- love confession, break-up with the girlfriend, success? That was an idealist thought and she was shocked that she had let herself believe in it. For goodness sake, she had let herself believe that it wasn’t a selfish decision to pour out her feelings for Scott while he was in a serious relationship and to not think about the impact. 

  
She was disappointed in herself. Being honest, she has disappointed herself a lot lately. Her therapist has told her she needs to give herself a break and some credit. She isn’t sure what there is to celebrate anymore. Her life is a scattered mess of occasional social get togethers and shopping trips with her mom (who really just spends the time grilling her on how she’s feeling).

 

Here she is, alone, watching reruns of some random reality TV show after a filling dinner of wine and poached eggs. 

 

Maybe she should find someone. Someone to attempt to fill the gaps left behind by a 17 year career. But who could she really let in? Who could she trust to fill these gaps? Who would want someone that’s so broken and comes with 17 years of emotional baggage?

 

Some nights she thinks they should go back to skating. Thinks they should go back to breaking their bodies and syncing their minds. But thinking about her partner in the midst of creating his new life, she resolves to keep it one of those distant wishes. 

 

When her cell phone dings she waits until the commercial to check it, assuming it’s her mother or her sister at her mother’s request. 

 

She flips over on her stomach when she sees his name illuminating her screen. She unlocks it quickly, fumbling with her password. She reads his message fast once, slow a second time, word for word a third time. She hates herself for it, but she’s lonely on a good day and today has not been a good day.

 

After fully understanding what he wants, she manages to smile at the thought of getting her skates out and lacing up. Of slipping her hand into Scott’s and forgetting about all of her worries. She’ll even get up early for that again. 

 

It takes her a few seconds to shake the overly excited feeling of seeing his name followed by a string of words, but eventually she calms enough to respond. She, of course, second guesses herself at least ten times, writing and rewriting the message over and over until it is the least invasive message possible. Not allowing another thought, she sends it, letting the phone flop onto her chest.

 

**_To Scott_ **

**_From T_ **

**_Sounds great :) I’ll take whatever ISC has for us. My schedule isn’t that crazy anyway. But I hope the coffee hot chocolate offer still stands even if we practice at night!_ **

 

She stares at her phone waiting for a reply. She subtly wishes things were as normal in person as they are in text. If she could, she’d ask him to come over. Just to have him sit on the couch with her. And no, they wouldn't do anything special but watch this stupid TV show and drink mediocre wine. He'd come up with funny jokes and she'd laugh at them. 

 

It's funny how despite him rejecting her confession in Scotland she can still think so fondly of him. The majority of it she attributes to her understanding that Scotland Scott and this current version of Scott are only a small part of “her” Scott. She knows the true Scott, the Scott that bubbles happiness from the light in his eyes and makes everyone feel welcome, is still in there. He’ll come back to her someday. 

 

When he doesn’t reply immediately ( _ patience Tessa, he just texted you _ ), she resigns herself to exerting some self control. Placing her phone down, she returns to her kitchen to deposit her dish in the sink and refills her wine. She blames the red liquid for the blush spreading across her cheeks, warming her whole body from the tips of her ears to the ends of her toes. Even though she’d only seen him hours before, she considers pushing aside all the formalities and barriers put in place to protect them from further harm and just asking him over.

 

There are exactly fourteen letters in the message she has planned for him. She’s written through nine before remembering that the answer will be something along the lines of:  _ Sorry Tessa, Kaitlyn is over _ or  _ Maybe another time I’m a little busy. _

 

As she deletes the message, her phone sounds and she worries that perhaps she’s sent it by mistake. Glancing at his message, she’s taken aback to see that forty minutes have gone by since he first texted. Realizing that it is indeed a new message, she reads over it carefully. 

 

_**To T** _

_**From Scott** _

_**Can you wait like 5 mins and then call me? I need a break from this dinner conversation.** _

 

The erratic stutter of her heart returns. Her fingers ghost over the keyboard, searching for the right response. She wants so badly to call him, but is that overstepping their unspoken boundaries?

 

The grey typing bubble appears and her mind is already made up when she receives his new message. 

 

_**To T** _

_**From Scott** _

_**Please?** _

 

She replies with a simple ‘ok’.

 

The next five minutes are some of the longest of her life. She feels as if the whole world has made several dizzying rotations around the sun by the time her timer sounds out, leaving her scrambling for the green phone app. His number is of course the last one she called.

 

The wait for him to pick up is almost as agonizing as the time she had to kill before. It takes two rings. 

 

“Scott?” She hears shuffling and him saying, “Sorry, I have to take this.”

 

“Hey, everything okay?” He questions, continuing the fabricated conversation in front of, she guesses, his parents and Kaitlyn. 

 

She chuckles slightly, “I guess I should be asking you that.” He doesn’t speak for a few seconds but she can hear his unsteady breathing and soft footsteps before a door closes. 

 

“I just needed some space.”  _ And to hear your voice _ , he thinks _.  _ “Dinner with my parents can get kinda stressful. You know the drill.”

 

“A stressful dinner with Alma Moir?” She pretends to act surprised. “You must be driving your poor mother up the wall.” The sound of his scoff brings a small smile to her lips. “Ok, you’re the one who wanted me to call so what’s going on. I don’t want to keep you too long.” She chooses to ignore the tiny voice in her head telling her that he wants this, that what he really wants is to talk to her. 

 

“Tell me how you are first,” Scott adds, obviously delaying his own issues. 

 

She sighs into the phone, “I'm just feeling a little lonely is all.”

 

“You know until recently I never knew you could feel lonely in a house full of people. But you can. So, I know how you feel.” 

 

Tessa fiddles with the frayed ends of her blanket. As much as she agrees with him, part of her wishes her home was filled with people who love her instead of an empty house and an empty bottle of wine. 

 

Most importantly she wants him to be there. Then maybe, they both could eliminate the lonely part. 

 

“Scott-- is everything ok?” Him avoiding his primary reason for escaping and needing her call was getting annoying. “I know you’re in the middle of dinner. I'm here for you, let me in.” 

 

The words he should have been telling his therapist tumble out of his mouth. “I've had two panic attacks since 4 p.m. and another two Wednesday - all since Kaitlyn got here. And I don't know what to do because I think she's making it worse.” 

 

She can hear the desperation in his voice and she wants nothing more than to reach through the phone and hold him. “Scott I--,” she hesitates, counting to ten in her head. She has to think logically. Not emotionally. “Have you done your breathing?”

 

The way his breath hitches makes her heart constrict. “I--I did earlier. I guess it helped. But I think it’s more than that Tess; I think something is seriously wrong and--”

 

“Scott!” He quiets instantly. “You need to take a moment, ok? Remember what I told you?” The lack of reply reassures her he is at least trying. “I think things have been a little overwhelming recently. You-- you haven’t seen Kaitlyn in a few weeks and I know your mom has you working hard at the rink. Not to mention therapy sessions can be pretty draining too. We’ve only been home a month-- it’s ok to feel burnt out.”

 

“Tessa…”

 

If she hadn't drank so much wine, the way he says her name would’ve made her get into her car and drive the unlit country roads of Ilderton right now. She'd happily shove the tiny curler aside to get to him and hold him till he felt better. She silently curses herself for drinking so much. 

 

“Mhm,” is all she manages. 

 

“I might not be able to do this for me…but I'll do it for you.” She can tell by his labored breaths that he’s crying and she uses her palm to wipe the tears that are starting to run down her own face. 

 

“Come on Scott, you can do this.” Tessa wonders if he’s already had a few glasses of wine too. “You don’t need me.”  _ He made that clear in Scotland.  _ “Things are really hard right now.”

 

“No Tessa-- it doesn’t--- it’s got nothing--,” His groan causes her to flinch. “I do need you.”

 

“You can’t say things like that.” The wine coursing through her veins is making her agitated and she works hard not to let it come out. The last thing he needs is her snapping. Her hand moves to rub her temples. “You’re ok.” 

 

Scott makes a sound between a sigh and whine. In any other circumstance she would've laughed.

 

“Do...do you think you should go back? It's been 25 minutes.”

 

“I think I'm just going to lay on the bed and pretend I fell asleep. But I'll let you go.”

 

“That's fair, you'd probably need an excuse if you went back anyways.”

 

“Listen, thank you. I really needed you today. So thanks, accept it. No excuses.”

 

“I need you too.” She can feel the instant regret from the hurried words so she wastes no time in tossing him a farewell before clicking the red end call button. Her stomach seems to agree, punishing her for the whole bottle of wine and desperate statements as she makes a beeline to the sink. 


	3. Chapter 3

The alcohol burns her throat as it makes a reappearance along with her sorry excuse for dinner. Tears that she thought she had swallowed track their way down her cheeks slowly.

 

“Fuck.” 

 

She quickly washes away the mess, meticulously sanitizing the entire area as soon as it’s gone. 

 

“Screw Scott Moir and his stupid words.” 

 

Tessa knows that even when he’s at his lowest point, Scott will always manage to make her feel wanted. Make her feel  _ loved and needed _ . But of course Scott at his lowest point is also word-vomit Scott who doesn’t think twice about the things that are said, even if they aren’t necessarily true. 

 

She drags herself through her house, up the creaky steps to her bedroom. She drinks a glass of water and washes her face before climbing shakily into bed for some alcohol induced sleep (the only kind that gets her through unwoken til morning). The good thing about living alone is that she doesn’t have to explain to anyone why she drank a whole bottle of wine or why she mopes around like she has no purpose. Instead she gets to keep her thoughts to herself (and maybe her therapist.) 

 

She hopes Scott got to let go of some of his baggage. 

 

Unfortunately, Scott most certainly does not get to share any of his baggage. He realizes very quickly he doesn’t  _ want  _ to share anything about how he feels. Especially with his parents or Kaitlyn. Nope, he’d much rather be miserable by himself. 

 

The night had started off very well too. He’d been on a high after the confirmation of ice time from his mother and the possibility of skating with Tessa. Just the thought of her texting him back with a “sure let’s do it” had been enough to make him whistle to the kitchen where he had kissed Kaitlyn smack on the lips before the two prepared dinner in comfortable silence. He had ignored her surprised looks, perfectly content to fall into his cooking zone.

 

Once the table was set and wine had been poured, he’d been happy to just sit and listen to his parents and Kaitlyn chatter mindlessly with one another, arm draped loosely behind her. Once they’d reached dessert, he thought he was home free. That was until his mom (after a few glasses of wine, might he add) decided to bring up his least favorite conversation.

 

“So Scott, Kaitlyn was telling me earlier that she was looking at some possible teams here in Ontario.”

 

Scott’s heart stopped, the air leaving the room immediately. 

 

“Of course not right away.” Kaitlyn added quickly, reaching over to rub his knee. “Just-- you know, looking for the future. I want to keep my options open so I don’t have to keep putting you two out.”

 

“Nonsense, it’s always a pleasure to have you,” his mom said, swatting the air.  

 

Kaitlyn smiled warmly, “That’s sweet! If Scott over here ever lets me see that house he’s working on, I could start to picture what moving here would be like.”

 

At that point he had felt that tingly feeling that spread through his being. As the cold wave encompassed him, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. 

 

He slipped it out as Kaitlyn turned to get the bottle of wine for refills. He typed quickly before she could see who it was. The feeling of dread paused as he navigated Tessa’s response. Ok, so she wanted to skate with him. 

 

“Scott?” His head shot up from the small screen to find the entire table staring at him. Red creeped up his neck. 

 

“What?”

 

The look his mom gave was not all that pleasant. She took another sip of wine. “I asked when you were planning on showing Kaitlyn the house.” 

 

His body had begun to tighten, apprehension filling his lungs. “It’s uh-- not safe enough to bring people there yet.” The lie registered with his mother the moment it was out of his mouth. He should’ve known better not to lie when she was around.

 

Kaitlyn smiled, shifting awkwardly. “It’s ok, I’ll wait till he’s ready; there’s no rush. Maybe I can find an apartment or something to rent in the meantime.” 

 

Scott typed off a message to Tessa, begging her to save him from the conversation. “We’ll see… no need to rush, I’m going to be gone in a few weeks for China and then we - Tessa and I - … there are some things lined up. You don’t want to be here if I’m not here.” He realized he was continuing to talk himself into a hole, and quickly added another pleading text to Tessa. He held off the flood of anxiety by clutching his phone, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could. 

 

“All in due time, it’ll work out,” his father added in attempt to cover for Scott’s lame excuses. 

 

His stomach dropped when he noticed Kaitlyn’s crestfallen glance back to her dessert as the four became silent. Great, there he was again, managing to fuck everything up. His phone spurs to life, the ring boring through the silence. “Um-- I have to take this.” He had practically tripped out of the dining room, fingers fumbling for the accept button as Tessa’s call had come in.

 

That had gone well until, like always, he managed to screw everything up. 

So now he’s laying on his bed, breaths coming out in short puffs, tears refusing to stop. He didn’t want to think about his parents, probably sitting in the dining room attempting to make conversation. Or his girlfriend, who most likely felt like it was her fault that he’d fled without another word. 

 

_ Way to go Scott, no wonder your therapist can’t help you. You can’t even admit it's time to help yourself.  _

 

When he hears the knock on the door he’s almost certain it’s Kaitlyn. He rubs the tears from his cheeks as the door opens, hoping to somewhat resemble himself as he shakily speaks, “Yeah?” 

 

He doesn’t expect it to be his mom, a worried expression on her face. He chokes on his held-back tears as she closes the door beside herself and sits on the bed. She gently pats his face, “Scotty, we only want for you to be happy. You know that right? And if this… any of this doesn’t make you happy, we love you enough to understand.”

 

The words threaten to drown him and he wants so badly to tell her so he doesn’t have to face this alone. He’s so sick and tired of feeling like he has no other choice but to suffer alone. His mom's hand moves to his hair, running her fingers through the growing strands just as she had done when he was a little boy and things had gone terribly wrong. “I don’t-- I don’t know what I want ma.” The tears drip down his cheek and he sniffles. 

 

And even at the age of twenty-seven, Alma wipes them away. “Oh honey.” She might not be able to gather him up in her arms, he towers over her at this point, but she can at least show him she’s here. “What’s going on?”

 

He feels safe here; he doesn’t care how old he is, he still feels like his mom has all the answers. So he tells her what he knows now, “I get panic attacks sometimes...a lot of times and I still don’t know how to talk about it in therapy. And I don’t know what or who I want. And Kaitlyn thinks I’m someone I’m not. And Tessa...Tessa.”

 

“What about Tessie...hm?” She gently rubs his arm, soothing him and welcoming his openness. 

 

“Tessa is-- Tessa is everything mom.” His voice becomes quiet and small. “She’s everything to me and I-- I completely destroyed that.”

 

Alma knew after his trip in Scotland, that something major had happened between her son and the woman who was practically her daughter. Well-- she knew that following Sochi something akin to a rift had formed and the two were struggling to figure out how to close it, but Scotland had appeared to have broken something deep within her youngest. Seeing him this hurt and confused, that was enough to make her want to cry. 

 

“Scott, this is Tessa we’re talking about. She managed to put up with you for seventeen years. What makes you think you’ve damaged that?” 

 

He wonders how much to tell her. Could he tell her that Tessa was brave enough to tell him she’s in love with him and he discounted her feelings, attributing them to nothing but confusion? He lowers his head, ashamed to even repeat the story. 

 

His mom doesn’t push, “Was that who you were talking to? Tess?”

 

He nods, “Yeah, she...she still makes it better. No matter what. She can make me feel better. And I want her to feel better too. You know she’s just as…” he trails off unsure what to call their current state. 

 

“You know being there is enough, right? Being able to be there for each other when you need it.” She gestures to his phone, “Scotty, if you can still be there for each other, nothing is ever beyond repair. And you, you two more than anyone are capable of making whatever’s wrong right.”

 

“I wish you knew how complicated it was mom.”

 

“Then tell me, I’m a good listener,” she says with a soft, pleading smile and a gentle squeeze of his arm. 

 

He rolls his eyes but plows on with the story, finishing lamely with the final night before they left and their promise to each other. It’s painful reliving everything. Every lie, every cruel comment, every heartbroken look. At some points he thinks his mom might cuff him for his actions but she continues to run her hand through his hair. 

 

By the time he reaches the end, he’s cried himself dry. With the tears gone he decides to stare up at the glow-in-the-dark star stickers on the ceiling of his childhood turned adult room. That’s pretty comparable to how he feels a child in an adult life.  

 

“Kaitlyn doesn’t know I’m in therapy. I mean-- I’m only going because I promised Tessa that we would work to get better. Together. But-- I can’t even call her nicknames mom. We barely look at each other when we’re together. And whenever we talk-- someone always says the wrong thing and we’re right back at square one. We’re so broken-- I don’t even know how she stands me.” He laughs drily. “I--I love her and instead of doing something, I panicked and broke her.”

 

Silence follows his admission. “I wish you’d hit me or something mom. I don’t like the quiet you.”

 

“Scott, do you see yourself with Kaitlyn? Like can you see that in the future? What about Tessa? Who do you think Tessa will be to you in the future? Because…” She looks away before looking back at him, “I think this time… you’re going to have to pick.” 

 

“I can barely see the next week, I can’t see what a future is going to look like. It’s hard to picture right now… I could never pick against--.” 

 

“It’s easier isn’t it?” She interrupts abruptly before continuing, “When she’s away, you can almost live one life instead of two.” 

 

He sits up slowly, squinting at his mom - it’s true. She’s really hit the nail on the head. He sighs deeply, propping his elbows on his knees and letting his head falling into his hands. His mom continues to rub his back. 

 

“If you don’t feel like you when you’re with her Scott, then as much as everyone likes her, you don’t have to do this. And that doesn’t mean I’m telling you to end it. I’m telling you to take a good hard look at who you are when you’re with every person in your life. You need to be authentically you in every part. Even if being in therapy is still helping you figure out who that ‘you’ is.” 

 

She is absolutely right and he hates it. “Yeah well, the thing is mom, I don’t really get to pick what  _ I  _ want. I want everyone to be happy and no one to be mad at me and that just can’t happen.”

 

“Not with that attitude. You just have to try.”

 

“Mom, come on. I’ve tried-- just look at where it gets me. In my childhood bedroom, sleep deprived and crying while my girlfriend sits somewhere confused about why I’m always disappearing on her. She wants marriage mom-- and kids. She wants to move here.”

 

“You're allowed to prioritize yourself, you know. Sure, Kaitlyn wants a family and kids, but she deserves to have it with someone who wants the same thing. And if you’re not ready for that, then she’ll either wait for you or she’ll move on. That’s on her accord. But I won’t let you do this, settle into a life to make anyone happy but you. Do you understand?”

 

It feels like he’s eight and he forgot the steps to his solo. “I live to please mom. When other people are happy I’m happy.” Maybe that's why he’s so miserable. Because, he knows straight up Tessa is not enjoying life right now and Kaitlyn spends so much time and energy trying to make herself fit into his life she’s miserable too. Why is everyone around him upset? “I just need to make them all happy.” 

 

“Do you think stringing Kaitlyn along will make her happy? If she knew that you might not really be in it?” 

 

“No, but I would never tell her that,” his brow furrows. 

 

“Doesn’t mean you don’t feel it. And what about Tessa, would she be happy that you’re not really fulfilling your promise?” 

 

This time his eyes go wide, “I am too!” 

 

“Tell me honestly you’re giving 100% to your promise of getting better together.” Alma knows this game; Scott holds his promises to Tessa higher than he holds anything in his life. He would hike in a ice storm if he’d promised her that he’d be somewhere. She knows Tessa holds them the same way - what other nine-year-old would give up the national ballet?

 

“I’m-- I’m--,” he ignores her pointed look. “Ok fine, I’m not completely into therapy but that doesn’t mean I’m not giving her 100%! I want everything to go back to normal. Exactly like it was before.” Scott pauses, reevaluating the statement. “Well-- no I don’t want it to be like before. I want it to be better.”

 

“Then you need to start working harder. I love you, Scotty but from the outside it feels like you’re focusing on too much--running yourself thin. I want you to think about picking aspects of your life to focus on so you can fulfill those that before moving on. If you think that your relationship with Kaitlyn needs to be nurtured more, then maybe you shouldn’t be doing all these shows. Maybe you should show Kaitlyn the house and let her have an input on what kind of paint to use. Then let her come try out on a team here.”

 

“Mom--”

 

“I hate to say this, hun, but welcome to post skating life. There’s no unified goal here. You have to choose it yourself.”

 

Scott takes a deep inhale and exhales loudly before suggesting,“What if...What if I want Tessa?” 

 

“Then you pick Tessa, Scott. But before you jump into anything with her you need to build back your friendship and tell Kaitlyn the truth. Because you and Tessa… there’s a lot in that relationship. I’m not saying that’s bad, but it’s scary. It’s a really big thing and it should be treated that way. You need to be really sure before you tell her because you can’t break her again, Scott.” She pauses for a moment, tilting her head and patting his face softly, “Don’t shy away from picking Tess if that’s what you want because it’s big. A big kind of love, it doesn’t come around often.” He nods in response, glancing momentarily at the childhood photo of him and Tessa resting on his desk.

 

It terrifies him. The thought of making such a definite decision. He doesn’t feel like an adult capable of making such grandiose decisions. But when he closes his eyes, he knows deep down it was never Kaitlyn. He’s not completely sure if it’s Tessa, but he’s certain it’s not Kaitlyn.

 

“It’s...it’s not Kaitlyn. I think--,” he takes a deep breath, all the weight on his shoulders melting with his admission. “I think, right now at least, I need Tessa.” He surprises himself with the ease to which the words come. 

 

Alma smiles. She isn’t at all put off by his admission.

 

_ Truthfully, she was actually very, very relieved. _

 

“Well then, I think you know what you need to do _.” _

 

“You think like I should sleep on it? Or…” 

 

“Being honest, I think that you’ve probably known this since you kissed Tessa and it didn’t feel weird.” 

 

“Wha-what?” Scott asks her puzzled.

 

“If you were like siblings like you’ve claimed or even just friends, it would’ve felt weird to kiss her. In my opinion anyways. Scott, trust your gut on this, you don’t have to tell Kaitlyn tonight but soon. She’s gone to bed in the guestroom. I think you should get some sleep too.” 

 

“Okay, thanks Mom. For everything.” Scott stands to readily accept her open arms and melts into her. She squeezes hard and holds him low to kiss his forehead. 

 

“You know that your Dad and I are really proud of you for going to therapy. We love you no matter what.” 

 

His eyes began to water again. “I’m gonna make this right. I promise, I’ll fix everything.”

 

“I know you will Scott. She’s your whole world.”

 

Scott nods, watching as she shuffles towards the door. He feels so light for the first time in-- well he can’t remember the last time he felt this good. More than anything he wants to run to Tessa’s house and tell her everything. But he knows that it will all come in due time. First, he needs to deal with the mess he’s made here.

 

Scott finds himself back in the room he’s been in more often lately. He’s somehow found strength in these sessions; he’s thriving. The catharsis feeling has invigorated him lately and he feels more driven than he’s been in months. Driven towards what, he’s not quite sure -  but he’s working on that. 

 

It’s still difficult to talk about...  _ certain things _ . He is getting there but still-- he has some boundaries when it comes to discussing his relationships. 

 

“So, how’s your week been Scott?”

 

“Well...I only had one panic attack. And I used all the tips we talked about.” 

 

“And?” 

 

“It was better.” He says with a nod. 

 

“Okay, did you do the reading?”

 

He thinks about sitting in the hotel rooms in various cities for Lindt on Ice, reading. Tessa also had had her own reading to do, sitting across the room with a highlighter and a notebook. He isn’t as dedicated to taking notes as she is. But he read them. And he learned a lot. A lot about his feelings of guilt and understanding how to reframe his thoughts when negativity invades them. 

 

“Yeah, I did a few of them.”

 

His therapist knows him well enough at this point to know opening him up is half the battle. Once he’s open, then she can’t shut him up. “And what did you think about them?”

 

Scott shifts slightly. He can feel himself opening again, ready to share his latest struggles. “I learned I can control things that happen in my head. And that when a bad thought comes-- I need to stop and break down what’s going on.” 

 

She takes her glasses off and leans forward. “Now, did you like learn it, or do you believe it? Because that's going to be the difference here.”

 

He listens carefully and analyzes his thoughts - he believed the words. He’s already started applying them. He nods, “I believe it.”

 

She smiles, “Okay, so...we've tackled some of the list but let's come back to it in a bit. I want to see how you're feeling or been feeling lately affects the relationships in your life.” Sensing Scott’s hesitation she adds, “We're not talking about the list so if you're not ready for talking about Tessa that's okay but I'm sure there are other relationships in your life you might want to talk about.” 

 

There is a moment of panic when he thinks of all that went on over the weekend. An entire facet of his life had crumbled away and while he does feel a  _ tad  _ lighter, a huge chunk of his emotional wellbeing has subsequently fallen away with it. “Uh-- I-- no, not much has happened.”

 

He’s not surprised to find her expression questioning. But the lie is just so easy, so simple and painless. Not saying anything means the two of them can move on and continue talking about the CBT stuff she’d been adamant he study. 

 

“Really? You seem a little... down. Last week you were so happy after you and Tessa had practiced for a few hours. You told me you were really looking forward to this weekend.”

 

“Why do I feel like every time I fix one part I break another?” He says the first thought that comes to mind. He can’t quite describe this new feeling; he is relieved to have one less stress on his mind, but he’s replaced with it was a subtle sensation of loss when he sees no notifications on his phone before bed. Is...is he lonely? He warms at the thought that he can identify a bit of what Tessa feels.

 

“One step forward, two steps back,” she says, pressing him forward. 

 

He presses his lips together but doesn't continue. She takes over, “So, how much do you talk about what you're going through with anyone. Do you confide in anyone?”

 

Staring down at the gray carpet, he feels himself give a little. He can't help chuckle, thinking about how his mom’s reaction that night nudged him to confront the truth. “My mom and…Te…”

 

“Tell me about your mom.”

 

She’s handing him a lifeline. “Well-- remember when I told you briefly about the night I called Tessa during dinner?” With her nod of assurance he plods on. “I uh-- didn’t tell you about the other attack I had after I hung up with Tessa and my mom-- she came to talk to me.”

 

“What did you two talk about?”

 

“I told her everything.” He recalls the way she had sat there, comforting him like a young child. “Everything that had happened in Scotland. Everything happening at that moment-- I just needed someone who understood, you know?” He leaves out the important detail of the evening’s rant but moves on. ”She told me pretty much the same thing you tell me.”

 

There’s a brief moment of silence as she scribbles a few notes before returning back to him. “Did it help?” 

 

“It made some things clearer. Gave me some perspective.”

 

“Perspective is a really important part of this - in deciding what or who is really important.”

 

Scott smiles, “You sound just like her.”

 

“Your mom sounds like a smart women. So moving forward, what was your take-away from that conversation. Did you make any decisions?”

 

He nibbles at his lip nervously, old habits of regressing back into his shell reappearing. If Tessa had been there she would have been able to pull him out, wrapping her hands in his and shooting him a helpful smile. 

 

So, Scott imagines Tessa curling her fingers into his palm. “I did, yes. I-- I mean, my mom told me the best thing to do and I kind of agreed with her?” He rubs the back of his neck. “I made a plan on what to do. Starting first with Kaitlyn and ending with Tessa.” 

 

His mom’s words echo in his head.  _ Don’t shy away from picking Tessa if that’s what you want because it’s big. Because a big kind of love, it doesn’t come around often. _

 

“Of course... Things didn’t exactly go to plan.”

 

His therapist forces him to meet her eyes again. “What do you mean ‘didn’t go to plan’?” 

 

“Uh-I broke up with Kaitlyn. And now I have to do the hardest thing I've ever done.”

 

“What's that?”

 

“I have to wait and I have to get better and let her get better. And I have to hope and pray that at the end of it all. she’ll still feel the same way.” 

 

There is a solid few seconds of confused quiet. “Scott, I feel like we’ve moved on from Kaitlyn.” He opens his mouth to speak but she cuts him off. “I want to know more about this this person who you want to “feel the same way” but first, let’s talk about this break up. I am a bit surprised as last week things appeared to be... perfectly ok.”

 

Scott scoffs. “I thought it was perfectly ok too. But-- my mom was right when she said I needed to take a serious look at my life and think about what my heart was telling me. Not my head.”

 

“That’s a good place to start. What brought on the idea of breaking up with Kaitlyn though?” 

 

“She wasn’t what my heart wanted.”

 

“What was it that made you so sure? Was it looking at the future with her? Versus perhaps a different one?”

 

Scott shakes his head, “It was protecting my happiness before someone else's.” He smiles as he says this, actually feeling a moment of putting the puzzle together.  

 

It's funny that he can say this with a smile, after the tumultuous event of telling Kaitlyn. In the moment, things were pretty terrible, bad enough that both of them were in tears screaming at each other. Words had been said, hearts had been broken, and Scott had felt as if he’d simultaneously lifted the weight of the world off his shoulders and failed everything and everyone all at once. She had accused him of things he really didn’t have clear in his head before right now and he had accused her of putting too much pressure on him. She hadn’t told him that she had already tried out for an Ontario team and Scott hadn’t told her that he was in therapy. And then it had been quiet. Because that was it, if they didn’t have the trust to tell each other these sort of things, then they would never be able to fix it. There was nothing to fix. 

 

When Scott had gone to bed that night, he had slept just a little bit longer than he had previously. He woke up with a clearer feeling, knowing that he made that decision because of his own happiness. Not for anyone else’s, and maybe just maybe things would work out okay. 

 

His mother had been a little disappointed of course, but that was to be expected.

 

“I know I told you to make a choice Scotty, but you could have at least done it a little better.” She had lectured him as he ate a bowl of cereal that morning. 

 

“Ma, I don’t know what you were expecting. We both-- said some things that in retrospect I wish I could take back but...” He placed his spoon down, glancing at his watch. “What’s done is done. I gotta go get ready to pick up Tessa, we’ve got to get on the road.” Scott had stood, hurrying to place a kiss on her cheek before rushing away to get ready.

 

“So you protected your happiness?” The therapist said, dragging him back to the present. “What steps are you are going to take after this? A breakup is a pretty big life event.”

 

Scott thinks for a moment, going back to his life-chat with his Mom. She had brought such clarity to his next steps. “I’m going to focus on one aspect of my life...I’m going to work on myself. Getting better here and my responsibilities.” 

 

The therapists writes something down, “I think that’s a good idea to bring yourself back. Find out who Scott Moir is.” 

 

Scott frowns at her, “If you knew this all along, why didn’t you tell me?” 

 

She sighs with a gentle smile, “Scott, if I tell you to do these things, they’re not your choices, they’re mine. I honestly do think you’re starting to get a handle on this so don’t get discouraged.” 

 

Pushing aside the small tinge of annoyance, Scott smiles. “Alright. If people in my life see that I’m trying, then they’ll be a lot happier and that’s all I want.”

 

Seeing the look on his therapist’s face he hurries to add, “Along with my happiness of course. It’s not just about making others happy.” 

 

“That sounds like a good plan. Now I know you’re jet setting off to China next week so we won’t be seeing each other for a little bit. Can we talk about the trip? I remember you telling me last week you were a little nervous to go since it’s your first big trip in a while.”

 

Sure, Scott’s nervous. But it isn’t the same; the heavy pressure he’d felt when he first mentioned it is now more like a jittery anxiety that reminds him of pre-competition nerves.

 

“I’m a little nervous,” he looks to the door, thinking about Tessa on the other side of the wall in her own room. Is she nervous? “It’ll be the first time in a while that T and I spend a lot of time together. I just don’t want to make anything worse, you know?”

 

“Have you made things worse recently? When you’ve been talking?” The therapist asks, adjusting her glasses. 

 

“Well, no...things have been pretty good. We did some quick trips with our little coaching project. And we hung out and talked, but we also like did nothing again.” He pauses for a moment before adding, “It was nice.” 

 

“What do you mean you did nothing?” She tilts her head to study Scott’s reaction. 

 

He thinks about how to explain it to her, “Being near each other but not like talking, just…” He can name lists of things that are just more fun with Tessa-- watching people through a window walk by a little cafe, watching a movie they’ve seen a million times, walking between the rink and the hotel. But he doesn’t want to share them because they might sound mundane to her. She might not understand the effortless pleasure in them.   
  
“Being comfortable in each others’ presence? Has that been something you’ve lost since Scotland? Or something that’s happened because you haven’t been around each other as much?”

 

Lost would be too kind of a word for what Scott did to them in Scotland. “Well I-- in Scotland I kind of hurt her. To the point where were no longer comfortable with each other. We couldn’t-- I couldn’t even sit with her without it being weird.”   
  


“And you think that is solely based upon what happened there?”

 

Thinking back, maybe things had started to go downhill much earlier than the trip. “I mean I think after Sochi-- when she didn’t want to--,” Scott stops quickly, not quite ready to share the rest of the life altering story. “Things got pretty bad after we stopped competing. I guess I just didn’t see it at the time.” The gears turn quickly in his head. “So I guess it wasn’t all Scotland... Scotland was just where I really saw how bad it had gotten. I’m afraid-- I’m afraid China will be the same. We’ve been good. Not perfect but really really good for the last few weeks. But she doesn’t even know about Kaitlyn.” 

 

“How do you think she’ll react to that news? Did she have an attachment to Kaitlyn?”   
  


Scott fumbles with his hands. When he leaves out important details, it gets difficult for him to answer these questions honestly. “No, I just think for my sake she befriended her but I just, I don’t want her to blame herself for it ending when everything come out in the wash.”

 

“That’s something Tessa will need to deal with herself and to realize that when your relationships are unsuccessful it’s because of you and the other person. She can’t accept blame that’s falsely placed. And I think you reassuring her that there were reasons that you broke up will help her see that.” 

 

He nods propping his cheek up on his fist. “Do you think it would be wrong to wait till after the trip to tell her?” 

 

“I think that when you’re ready to tell her, it’s the right time. I also think that when you’re ready, you should try and keep your emotions in check. It’ll be easier for her to handle if she knows you’re at peace with the situation.” 

 

“I am at peace with it.” He admits easily. “I— I don’t think I’ve felt this light in so long.” Saying it makes everything seem more real. “I just want T to be happy—either being around me or just by herself. I don’t want her to feel odd on this trip.”

 

“Once again I think you should talk to her about it. I take it you two have already talked about the general details?”   
  


He fiddles with his fingers, unable to meet her eye. “You did talk with her about China, right Scott? You two aren’t just going into this blindly.”

 

“We... mentioned it.” He concedes sheepishly. “But I didn’t want to push it! Our ice events were going so well I just-- I wanted to take my time inserting myself into her life. I don’t want to scare her away. Sometimes I feel like I’m just too much for her. She makes me happy, that much we know. But I can’t tell yet if the opposite is true. How do you even begin to bring that up? ‘Hey Tessa does it still hurt to be around me? Do I make it nearly unbearable to be around me?’”

 

“Hm, it is a delicate topic. I think that maybe you should talk about it after this session maybe. Approach it as a comfort thing.” 

 

Scott’s not quite convinced. “Can you give me an example?” 

 

The therapist puts the pen to her lips before speaking, “I know that this trip is going to be a lot of time together, and I want you to know that if you need space or if anything makes you feel uncomfortable, you can talk to me about it.”

 

“Oh man that sounds so fake!” He whines slouching in the chair a tensed expression.

 

“Why does that sound fake? It’s not too invasive and it leaves plenty of room for her to express how she’s feeling.”

 

“Yeah but-- Tess and I-- we don’t work like that.”

 

“How do you two work then?”

 

“We just, I dunno we just know each other.” 

 

“Ok, then why don’t you just  _ know  _ how to talk to her?”

 

That familiar sense of anxiety starts to creep into his body, tightening his muscles. “Because I don’t want to hurt her!”

 

“I understand that Scott but--”

 

“Listen if I lose her, again, then none of this is worth it.” He cuts in suddenly, sitting up straight in his chair. 

 

The therapist is calmer now when she replies, “Scott, if she’s here for you now after Scotland and after a 17-year partnership, you won’t lose her unless you push her away. And if you love her you’d never let yourself do that.” 

 

“But I DID do that! In Scotland, she told me she loved me and I tore her apart by telling her she was wrong and I almost lost her.”

 

“Have you ever told Tessa you love her?” The therapist asks calmly, as if it was the most normal question in the world.

 

“How do you know I love Tessa?

 

“Scott, I’ve been in this profession for over twenty years. We’ve been working together for what, a month? In that time we’ve spent about half of it in silence, while the other half has been talking about Tessa...or around Tessa.”   
  
“That’s not entirely true.” He tries to save himself but knows its a moot point. 

 

“What did we talk about earlier? Allowing yourself to be open and free and be honest. It’s ok to allow yourself--”

 

“I love her ok? I love her more than anything and I think I have loved her for a very long time.” He collapses backwards as if the words have drained all his energy. “I love her. I love her so much it hurts and she-- she doesn’t love me anymore.”

 

She opens her mouth to speak but the intercom buzzes, “Gentle reminder you’re over your time.” Scott tenses his shoulders at the receptionist’s high pitched voice. He has his light coat on and his hand at the door before the therapist can even speak. 

  
“Scott...Scott.” He freezes at the door.

 

“Have a good trip in China, don’t overthink things, and please please talk to Tessa before you go about space and comfort.”

 

“Th-thank you.” He’s out the door and breathes easy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to our lovely, dedicated betas who take the time to make sure our story gets to you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! We're soooo sorry this update has taken so long. School has been super busy!

Tessa comes out the door across from him clutching her notebook, looking a tad flustered. She looks up at him, her beautiful green eyes suddenly wide. “Hi,” she says loudly.

 He smiles at her, “Hi. How was that?” He asks, motioning to the door.

 She sighs and nods her head, “A lot.”

 Scott chuckles and runs his hand through his hair, “Mine too.” They walk out together, Scott tucking his hands into his pockets, Tessa fishing for her car keys in her purse.

 When their speed naturally slows outside, Scott can’t get the advice he’s just been given out of his head and he can’t take anymore chances. “Listen Tessa…” he takes a deep breath before spitting out the cookie cutter line, “I know that this trip is going to be a lot of time together, and...uh...I want you to know if you need space or something makes you feel uncomfortable...you can talk to me.” He avoids her gaze looking down to his feet and rubbing his shoes against the sidewalk.

 The sound Tessa makes startles him, and he looks up confused. Big belly laughter erupts from her mouth as she flips open her notebook reading word for word, “I know this week might feel a little overwhelming so if you need time alone you can ask for it or if you want to talk.”

 Scott’s mouth falls agape and he shakes his head as he starts to smile. He looks at Tessa, the light catching her brown hair perfectly, making her hair illuminate with the touch of her childhood auburn a huge grin across her face. “I mean it if you meant it.” She says sincerely, the words coming out confident.

 She’s beautiful. Absolutely stunning beyond words, and Scott feels every last nerve melt away. He’s always gained confidence from her. She makes him feel so good about everything. Like he could take on anything in the world with her by his side.

  _Chill out, Scott, it doesn’t need to be that deep, you’re just making sure she’s gonna be ok on this trip._

 “I promise you Tess. Just-- I’m here for you, ok? You can also tell me to beat it and I promise I’ll leave you alone.”

 Tessa rolls her eyes at him, but he can see the beginnings of a small smile. The fact he’s using her nickname again makes her heart flutter. “Scott, come on.”

 But his eyes continue to hold the most serious look. “Really, I just want you to know I’m not joking around this time.”

 Her expression calms, “I know. Me too.” Painfully slowly she steps forward and wraps her arms around his torso, molding her form into his. Her heart pounds for the two seconds until she feels him curl around her, pressing his cheek against her temple.

 A feeling of magic encompasses him-- the unity, the togetherness, the _love._ He feels it. She replaces love with friendship in her own thoughts. The door to the office swings open and the two pull apart, both looking over their shoulders at their therapists.

 “We should go,” Tessa says quickly, fumbling with her car keys. “Yup,” Scott slides into the passenger seat.

 They click their seatbelts and she starts the car. Scott looks over at her quickly, his face confused, “I have my car here.”

 She flashes him a smile, “We’ll come back for it.”

 “Tessa Virtue, are you kidnapping me?” His eyebrows raise and his head tilts teasingly.

 Her giggle is one of the greatest things he’s ever heard. “Maybe just for some coffee? Then I promise I’ll bring you back to your car completely unharmed. That is, if you buy me a cookie.”

 He purses his lips at her, “A cookie? Really?”

 “What? I like cookies!” She exclaims, her green eyes wide and childlike.

 “Fine fine, I was thinking something like ice cream but if you wa--”

 A gasp escapes her lips. “I love ice cream. Can we?,” she pleads, leaning on the armrest of the car, her face bright.

 Scott raises his hands beside his body in defeat, “I’m not driving, I’m the one being held captive.”

 Tessa’s grin widens-- which Scott didn’t even think was possible-- and she starts the car, pulling out of the parking lot at lightning speed. “Ice cream it is then. You better like chocolate.”

 “I’ll buy you chocolate T, but I think I’m gonna stick with bubble gum.”

 “You are so boring and predictable.” He sticks his tongue out at her and she chuckles, eyes returning to the road.

 The two sit in easy silence, enjoying the warm summer breeze as they roll along the busy London streets. Scott is content to stare at the store windows, occasionally letting his gaze drift towards the woman in the driver's seat. She seems so carefree and-- light. He can't help but stare a little longer than what would be considered appropriate for the place they are in their relationship but--

  _She just looks so happy._

 She is happy. She’s learned to slow down in her sessions, realizing that narrowing her thoughts on one thing at a time helps her focus. Sure, she still struggles sometimes to calm herself down and live in the moment, but it’s getting better and she’s getting better. Looking over at Scott gazing at her, she can feel a change in him too. He still carries burdens, she’s sure. Things can’t change for either of them overnight. But she is trying and he is trying-- for now, that’s enough.

 She is nervous about China. She has finally got into the idea of reframing. She hasn’t really told her therapist but she is using the reframing technique to reframe her romantic feelings towards Scott. The more she pushes away the thoughts, covers them in it a layer of friendship-coloured wrapping paper the easier it gets. And the easier it gets, the more fun it is to enjoy what’s left of their friendship.

 In no time, the two arrive at one of their favorite ice cream shops. The hole-in-the-wall joint is tucked away in the center of London, and boasts a menu that covers even Tessa’s wildest desires.

 “Alright, Tess, don’t go crazy on me. I know I have to pay a ransom but a man only has so much to give.”

 Tessa elbows him lightly before clambering out of the car and practically running into the store. He hesitates for a few seconds, watching as she furiously waves him towards the door.

 He feels like he’s sixteen again in Canton, promising Tessa ice cream after school if she doesn’t take forever talking to her friends at her locker. Little did he know, Tessa would be waiting for him at his car at the end of the school day, waving at him just like she is now. “What am I gonna do with you Tess?” He murmurs to himself, following after her.

 Once in the store, Tessa takes way too much time by Scott’s standards to pick out a flavor. “You said you wanted chocolate T, just choose that.”

 She turns around to glare at him. “There are so many flavors, one can’t just choose something like chocolate.”

 He holds up his hands in defense. “Alright, alright. Take your time. It’s not like we have to leave for China or anything.”

 Tessa sticks her tongue out at him, but turns back around to continue reading as he decides on his order (of course, he sticks with the safe option.) “This girl over here will probably have a scoop of swiss chocolate.”

 Her eyes scrunch up-- in that adorable way he loves so much-- in disgust as she shakes her head. “Ok, maybe not that.” His eyes scan back over the menu for a moment before settling on the next flavor. “I know exactly what she’ll have! A scoop of cookies and cream please. In a cone with a cup.” He waits for her disapproval but is rewarded with a brilliant smile.

  _He’s really gotta work on reigning these stupid butterflies in. It has only been a week and he feels as if things have been this way for months-- maybe even years._

 “Not bad Moir, not bad. He’s probably going to say something like he wants coffee because he’s an adult but really,” she tilts her head to tease him further, “he wants bubble gum.”

 “I have no shame in bubble gum.” Scott says firmly pouting his lip and placing his hands on his hips.

 “Uhm, do you want the one with pop rocks Sir?” The teenage boy asks, his face not showing any sort of expression.

 “Yes, yes I would,” Scott says firmly while Tessa giggles in the corner, already pressing her ice cream meticulously into her cone like the perfect type A personality that she sometimes is. Scott pays for the both of them and they take a seat outside in the small table section by the trees.

 As Tessa works away at her ice cream she looks at Scott sucking on his spoon and pursing his lips. She watches the various faces he makes, letting the pop rocks dissolve in his mouth. She can’t deny that she loves that about him; his childlike wonder at the simple joys in life has always brought her perspective.

 “You’re staring at me,” Scott startles her. “Is it entertaining?”

 Tessa has become so much better at hiding her emotions and is proud to be able to keep the red from staining her cheeks (if worse comes to worse, she can pass it off as the heat.) “Is what entertaining?”

 “Watching me eat my ice cream?”

 “No. But watching you drip half of it onto your shirt might be.” She leans forward to hand him a napkin, gesturing to the pink stream that has begun to dribble down his cone and onto his shirt.

 “Hey! That’s not very nice.” But Scott can’t keep the smile off his face as he begins to mop up the mess. Unfortunately, his cleaning attempt has instead smudged pink all over his shirt. “I wear my ice cream proudly.”

 She giggles at his joke, the sound feeling freeing as it bubbles out of her body. But then she has the thought: _I love you._ She’s angry at herself. Furious really. She stands abruptly, saying “We should get going.”

 She swipes up the garbage on the table, walking to dispose of it. How can she let this happen?! Those thoughts are forbidden. _He’s your friend, Tessa. Friend and nothing more._ She’s already unlocking the car as she sees Scott trailing behind, attempting to keep up.

 Scott is confused. He doesn’t know what happened. Things were good, they were enjoying it. They were talking, living, breathing comfortably in each other’s space. The confusion worries him, it sweeps up his body like a tidal wave and he forces out some calming breaths, not allowing himself to give way to the sudden panic. Tessa’s already started up the car and is ready to go by the time he slides in quietly next to her.

 The silence on the way back is nowhere near as friendly and enjoyable. Instead, they both sit tense in their seats, eyes stuck solely to the road in front of them-- and to Scott, the silence seems insurmountable. Even the warm air and classic tunes can’t bring back the easy atmosphere from earlier. _Is this what it’s going to be like from now on? We’re good for ten minutes and then go back to being acquaintances?_  

 He doesn’t want to push her though, and even with the pit of dread expanding in his stomach, he knows better than to try and crack a joke to make her laugh. As soon as they pull into the office parking lot, he’s out of the car, throwing her a quick and basic thank you. “I uh-- I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then. I-- do you want a ride to the airport?”

 Tessa shifts her gaze from straight ahead to a spot just above his eyes. “Um, I’ll let you know tonight. I think my mom already offered.”

 He feels the air leave his lungs. _She’s not even looking at me. We’re back to this kind of interaction._ “Yeah-- no of course. Just text me. I was planning on leaving my car there anyway.” He waits a few more moments to see if she’ll say anything else before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Um well thanks again for the ride. Let me know about tomorrow.”

 She nods, putting the car into drive. Without another word she drives off, leaving him standing in the middle of the parking lot, the massive weight that disappeared earlier making its ugly return.   The moment Tessa can no longer see him in her rearview mirror is when she realizes what she’s just done.

 “Fuck,” she mutters to herself. “God dammit Tessa, he’s letting you in and you’re shutting him out.” She pulls over to the side of the road, unable to concentrate. She stomps her foot, her knee banging against the steering wheel. She pulls out her phone, dialing his number, _pick up pick up._

 ‘Hi you’ve reached Scott, leave a message.’

 “Ughhh *BEEP* Scott, I’m sorry I just sometimes I can’t control this. Listen you don’t have to call me back, just...pick me up tomorrow. Kay, I’m sorry.  Bye.”  She slumps over on the steering wheel, going over her horribly worded voicemail.

 “You just can’t control it,” she says aloud to herself, mocking the choice in words. She chides herself for ruining what could have been another perfectly fine outing between the two of them-- which, might she add, they had been doing very well with. _What goes up must come down Tessa, even you know that._

 Well, Tessa hopes to God this whole thing won’t come crashing down on them six thousand miles from home.

 Scott’s alarm goes off the next morning way too early for his post-competitive lifestyle. Sure, he hasn’t been able to sleep more than a few hours at a time, but no one should have to get up at - he leans over to shut his alarm off- 3:35 a.m.

 He flicks his lamp on, rolling over to grab his phone. The lock screen shows he’s received no new texts since his last check a few hours before. Of course, he’s not surprised. But a tiny part of himself wished to see her name along with a notification of her message waiting.

 So he settles on re-listening to her message from the day before, letting her voice wash over him as if it was some kind of drug that immediately calmed him.

  _I’m sorry I just sometimes I can’t control this. Listen you don’t have to call me back, just...pick me up tomorrow. Kay, I’m sorry.  Bye.”_

 He can’t remember how many times he’s heard the voicemail repeat itself. In an effort to control himself though, he hadn’t called her back. Scott Moir isn’t stupid, he knows when she wants space, especially from him. So he will honor that, vowing to keep the conversation and interaction to a minimum. Not that it will matter in the end, Tessa at this hour will be fairly quiet. Not to mention the fact Tessa hardly ever wants to talk when they travel.

  _Unless it was with just him of course. He knows very well that she can talk his ear off when the two of them travel alone. But add in another party and Tessa is mostly mum._

 He hopes today is one of those days where they can fall into the easy back and forth rhythm of togetherness. That rhythm is not something that has been universally present in their seventeen year partnership. They’ve worked on it, long tireless hours with sports psychologists (who are  really couple counsellors) when tense feelings in the rink extend to their personal life. But the tenseness that’s plagued them lately doesn’t stem from the rink and that’s what makes it hurt the most. They’ve done it to themselves and somehow they’ve got to get themselves out of it.

 When he leaves his house he sends her a text that he’s on his way and sure enough when he arrives, she is sitting on her front porch, feet propped up on her luggage. He hops out of the car quickly, approaching her porch before she can stand.

 “Hi,” he says with a soft morning smile. He feels jittery on the inside waiting for any kind of reaction from Tessa, attempting to judge what foot they’re going to start this trip on.

 “Hi,” she echoes back, her eyes a little heavy, characteristic of her dislike of early mornings. He listens hard to her voice, trying to sense if the monosyllabic greeting  communicates any underlying reluctance. Unable to find any, he continues on. He reaches for her luggage, halting as she says his name, “Scott.” He falters, turning back towards her.

 She opens one arm, her other clutching her travel mug, beckoning a hug. The luggage is long forgotten he walks into her one open arm, hugging her with both arms, his face brushing against her travel scarf.

 “I’m really sorry,” she says muffled into his shoulder.

 When they pull apart he squeezes her arm, “When you’re ready… we can talk about what you feel like...when that happens…”

 Tessa swallows hard, nodding, knowing deeply that this is not the case. She can’t talk about it with him. _She already had._ _See: Scotland._ It isn’t what’s best for her or for them.

 “Let’s get going, first stop Saskatchewan next stop China.” He grabs her luggage once more, hauling it towards his open trunk. She follows close behind, sliding into the passenger seat before he even has the chance to close the back.

 “I wasn’t sure if you’d already um-- made coffee.” Scott started lamely as he took his place in the driver's seat. “So I uh-- picked some coffee from Tim’s up for you. Along with a few Timbits.” He gestures towards the middle console.

 If she wasn’t so tired (or determined to keep some sense of restraint), she would launch herself into his arms. “Scott-- thank you.” She tries to communicate the gratefulness in her words, settling with a small hand squeeze.

 He nods, turning the car back on before pulling back out onto the road. “Can’t have you falling asleep on me, eh?”

 She of course, falls asleep halfway through the drive, dozing lightly against the window. Scott’s eyes leave the road far too often to be considered safe but he can’t help it. In sleep, Tessa is completely relaxed and at peace. It’s hard to swallow that he can no longer make her feel that calm when awake.

 By the time they reach the terminal, the sun is just starting to rise, weak rays of light illuminating the small airport. He doesn’t want to wake her-- on the contrary, he wants to make sure she stays in such a tranquil place for as long as possible.

 He wishes he could fulfill that wish, but looking at the time he knows he can’t take the chance of them being late. He chews on his lip, stacking up the two empty coffee cups, attempting to make time where they have none.

 Tessa wakes up on her own, looking out the window and realizing they’ve arrived. She turns to look at Scott, stating the obvious, “I fell asleep.”

Scott chuckles, “Sleep well?”

Tessa rubs her eyes with her palms, mimicking a small child. Tessa studies his face, his eyes bright despite the time. He could’ve woke her up, faking coughs to rouse her and keep him company. But not Scott, not her Scott. She’s far too drowsy to punish herself for the thought so she shakes her head, forcing herself to continue with her day.

After retrieving their bags-- of course he carries Tessa’s despite her initial insistence that she is perfectly fine carrying her own-- the two make it through the first portion of their journey in relative silence. Once in Toronto, Scott keeps the interaction to a minimum, besides of course buying her a chocolate croissant and a tea, which she accepts with a small smile. By the time they start boarding, Scott has all but given up the hope that there will be any _real_ conversation going on between the two. Sure, she apologized for her actions from the day before, but things still feel stilted and out of place.

“I hope we’re sitting together at the dinner,” she says. It almost comes out of thin air and he looks over at her, ensuring the words came out of her mouth.

He smiles softly. “I hope so too.” He rubs his hands on his jeans, looking up at the desk attendant who’s busy clicking away at the computer. He adds, “It’s kinda fitting you know.”

“What is?” Tessa questions.

“You know, this being a mental health fundraiser and all… and us really understanding what it’s like.” He wonders if he’s crossed a line, talking about it like this, naming what they’ve been facing the past year or so. But he watches Tessa nod slowly and stare off into the distance. He wonders if he shut down the conversation too soon.

“I have so much respect for people that have lived with this for so long. And so many are so much worse off than us…” she places a hand on his leg tapping him. “I’m proud of us, we’re trying. We’re getting somewhere.”

He can’t help smile and feel a little proud of them as well. They’re not there yet. Not even close. But they’re much closer than they were just a month ago.

Once on board, he inwardly groans when he learns she’s not going to be anywhere in the vicinity of him. Not that he expected to sit with her-- they never sit together on flights-- but at least if they were close he’d feel somewhat calmer.

“You get to sit in the fun seat!” He whines, dreading his trip down the narrow aisles.

She heaves her bag into the overhead bin, settling into a seat several rows ahead of his. “It’s not a long flight. It’ll be over before you know it.”

It’s not like she’s gonna admit to missing him too, especially with their conversation being so basic. Tessa knows better than that. But his shoulder is a particularly nice place to rest and she’s tired from her lack of sleep the night before when she tossed and turned, fretting over every minute detail of their failed outing. “I’ll see you in four hours, eh?”

Scott, who has been hurried along by the stream of passengers trying to get to their seat, turns around. “Enjoy your flight, T.”

She smiles warmly at him and settles in her seat. Deep in her thoughts by the time they’re taxiing to the runway, she feels that little bit of excitement that used to hit her before they left for a competition. She imagines what it would be like if they were heading to a competition. She wonders where they’d fit into the landscape of ice dance. What music would they use? What would she wear?

She picks at her fingernails thinking back to Pan Am - the first time they’d broached the topic of a comeback.

_“Here’s your tickets. It's open seating in this row so sit where you’d like and thanks for coming to support Team Canada.” The blonde haired girl smiles hands them two tickets. Scott shoves his hands in his pocket allowing Tessa to accept the tickets._

_“Well it's not everyday Canada hosts Pan Am,” he says with a smile._

_Tessa looks around and takes in the beautiful red and white decor that the venue has been decorated in. They walk through a private area, accepting water bottles and looking around at some of the athletes in the wings, the Canadians decked out in their red uniforms with the maple leaf of their backs._

_As they walk into the stands, Scott has a smile plastered to his face and Tessa’s certain her expression matches his. “You can feel it,” he mumbles to her and she nods. Sure, their conversation has been stilted but this is an undeniable feeling. It’s the shared tangible excitement and pride of being part of something bigger. Sitting in their seats under the hot sun looking down at the volleyball court, they take in all around them. Tessa wonders if he’s thinking about it too. Sure, this isn’t an Olympics but it certainly gives off the feeling._

_He is thinking about it. He’s been thinking about it since he saw the contingent of athletes in red and white in a huddle in the main hall. He thought about it in the gift shop when Tessa tried on the bright red sweater and shoved her hands in her pocket with a small sigh._

_It isn’t until they get to the car after the event that Scott lets the words blurt out, “The doors still open for us, right? You know... to think about it.”_

_Tessa nods hard and fast. “I-I want to think about it.”_

_They both sit in silence for a moment before Tessa adds, “Sitting at home would be…”_

_“...strange,” Scott finishes. Their eyes refuse to meet as if the enormity of the admission is too much._

_“But Scott— coming back— there’s so much we’d have to do. So much we’d have to plan.” Tessa picks at an invisible loose thread on the hem of her dress. “I don’t know if—”_

_“Tessa we aren’t making a decision right now.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out so harsh, so he immediately backtracks. “We’re just— talking about it. The options there right?”_

_“Yeah.” She chooses to ignore his small outburst, turning to give him a meek smile instead. “It’s there. We have to think about it and agree cause— if we come back— everything has to be different.”_

_He nods, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “Let’s keep it in the back of our heads.”_

_He doesn’t want to think about how coming back would mean finding a new coach, a new training location, a new lifestyle. It would mean waking up at the crack of dawn and long days spent pushing his body to the limit. He’d have to try new costumes and listen to hours of music over and over. Somehow he’d have to fit his life back into the mold the ISU would want._

_But— even after all of that— after all the glitz and glam and sweat and tears, he’d get to spend it right back in his favorite place._

_Next to Tessa._

_Just the thought of that has him practically screaming yes to the unasked question. He wants to forget about all of his concerns and questions-- and the fact they are barely talking to one another-- and do it all over again._

_The conflicted look on her face when he glances over pulls him immediately back to reality. He’s known her “thinking faces” since they were kids and this one often precedes some kind confession he doesn’t want to hear. “Whatcha thinking about T?”_

_“Everything...and nothing.” She thinks about how it would change everything. Everything that she’s worked to make her new normal. But it would also change nothing, she’d be back in her place of solace with him by her side. Just him and her...against the world._

Would it be an escape? _, she considers._ Would it be them taking the easy way out of their mental issues by diving head first in regimented training?

_She not sure about that. She thinks that with the progress they’re making it would be different but they’d need a entirely different mental approach. She’s not even sure if such a thing would be possible._

_“Everything and nothing eh?” He wants to keep pressing her, wants to delve deep into her thoughts and understand why she refuses to share more than everything and nothing._

_Her half grin, half grimace makes him let it go. “Well, Ms. Everything and Nothing, we’ve arrived at your house.” His hand sweeps wildly across the view of her front lawn. “You should get some rest. You know, for therapy and everything tomorrow.”_

_She leans across the center console for a half-assed hug (in previous months they would’ve both insisted they get out of the car for a proper hug). As they pull apart, she pats his arm assuringly. “Let’s keep this conversation open.”_

_He nods and taps the steering wheel, “Open.”_

As the plane steward offers her a drink of water, Tessa is pulled out of her thoughts. Sipping on her water, Tessa wonders if this trip might bring up the conversation again. It’s about the time they need to make a decision, sit down and make a serious case for or against. There’s nothing that can be done now, though, so she tucks the thought away and settles in for a nap.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, please keep yelling at us to update and then maybe we'll remember. Shout out to our editing team :)

When they arrive at the event, Scott walks in first, holding the door open for her and placing a hand on her back to guide her to the check-in (she notes somewhat disappointingly that his hand is higher than it used to be.) It’s just  _ easy _ . He tells them their names, she thanks them. She finds their table, he gets them drinks. It’s easier than the six events she attended alone in the past year or so. Where she’d have to walk aimlessly attempting to find the check-in,  escape small talk to grab herself the closest drink, and wander about finding people to talk to. 

Scott, though, makes small talk seem easy. In just a casual 10 minutes, he can turn a table of relative strangers into a team, already getting them ready to participate in whatever activities the night throws at them. 

Little does Tessa know, her presence makes it easy for him. His normal second guessing goes unnoticed when he can look over at her for assurance. He can confidently charm people using their easy back-and-forth, Tessa picking up his lost train of thought with ease. Not even Scott knows how Tessa’s presence helps him, but what he does know is that he’s enjoying a work event for the first time since Sochi.

By the time dinner has been served, Scott is completely at ease. Cloud nine doesn’t even begin to describe how amazing he feels. He doesn’t know a single person there, but he isn’t at all bothered by the fact as he enjoys the effortless conversation, good food, and endless flowing alcohol. 

Tessa on the other hand-- well Scott is a little more concerned about her. She is talking and  laughing and drinking, but her posture screams media Tessa, complete with the press conference giggle and rink interview smile. It’s subtle and impossible to see without having over seventeen years of history with her. 

He wishes he could tell her it’s alright. Just lean over and whisper that she’s here, with him, and they are okay (for the time being.) While he knows it’s probably outside the boundaries they’ve unknowingly drawn for themselves, he isn’t going to just let her suffer on her own. Stiff Tessa makes his head hurt. 

So he doesn’t think twice when he subtly slips his hand under the table-- praying to God he has the right person-- and easily finds her leg as it jitters nervously. He gives it the lightest squeeze, so as to communicate a silent ‘ _ It’s ok Tess, I’m not going to let you suffer through this alone. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.’ _

Her eyes find his as he slides a gentle hand over her leg and squeezes. Like a spark she feels the calm spread through her body, his eyes speaking to her through a slow blink and a slight head tilt.  _ Relax, we’re in this together.  _ He’s right, she doesn’t have to be on guard here. No one will try and twist her words and ask difficult questions. And if they do he’s here, he can buffer. He’ll have her back. And she’ll have his.  _ Together. It’s just that easy.  _

Even if, they’re never together the way she wants deep down. They’ll always have this—the Virtue Moir ebb and flow. 

The rest of the event goes on without a hitch. Tessa lets herself go a little more, comfortable enough to lean back in her chair and not overthink the arm Scott has loosely draped over the back of it, or the somewhat invasive questions directed at them about their lives following the silver medal. 

“Well if it isn’t my favorite ice dancers,” Mike Babcock claps Scott’s shoulder, thankfully pulling the two from some random person’s odd interest in their significant others. 

“Babsy!” Scott stands, pulling the older man in for a hug. “This is a great event. Thanks for the invite.”

“I wasn’t going to pass up inviting Olympic medalists now was I?” 

Tessa follows suit with another strong hug and kiss on the cheek. “No plus ones today?” 

“We’re off to China after this!” Tessa counters quickly, as if it’s enough of an excuse to not bring partners. Scott could’ve brought Kaitlyn she thinks, but perhaps she’s busy training. She doesn’t really understand the curling season. Do they refer to them as seasons? 

Mike doesn’t press, “Oh very nice, got some shows lined up?”

Scott nods, “Yeah we’re looking forward to it. Getting away is always nice.” 

“Any long term plans lined up?” Mike asks conversationally. 

“We’re…” she looks to Scott for assurance and he nods, “we’re still figuring that out. We’ll have to wait and see.”  Tessa tacks on a press conference smile like they both had in interviews the entire Olympic season when they were plagued with the same question.  _ Are you retiring? What comes next? _

She admires Scott's ability to laugh through that question time and time again. She knows that his insides must have been pulling tightly and anger must have bubbled in his stomach but somehow in front of cameras he always manages to keep it in check. She had pretended he wasn’t unusually quiet during the events. She was quiet too. Usually just taking in the field before them. She likes watching pairs, mens, and ladies. It’s nice to see their friends climbing the ranks. But ice dance, that’s a different story. She had felt like she was watching them with a microscope. Her heart stopped during every twizzle bobble and hitched lift. But the moment the music ends was the most interesting to her.  And to him. 

They had looked at each other and talked about the lack of enthusiasm. Were these skaters enjoying it? Had they enjoyed it enough when it was their turn?

Was there space for them to come back and fix that emptiness they’d felt at the end of Sochi? Maybe— just maybe— if they had another shot, they could show the world that the final note of a program should communicate everything. 

“For now we’re just happy to finally have some time off,” Scott concluded. 

“Well, I’m happy that I could grab some of that time from you two. I know you’re very busy.” Babcock gives Scott another pat on the back before gesturing to the middle of the function hall where a makeshift dance floor has appeared. “You two better get in there and show everyone up at some point.” 

Scott chuckles. “Why, looking for a dance? We’ll see. My girl T and I are a little out of practice so maybe not tonight.”

He doesn’t miss the small look of disappointment that flashes briefly across Tessa’s features before disappearing behind a polite giggle. 

“I can’t drag him out there but I might ask for your hand later, Babsy.”

The older man rolls his eyes. “Enjoy the rest of dinner you two.” And with that he turns, leaving them behind in a thorny silence. 

“You don’t want to dance?” Tessa asks, her feelings falling out of her mouth bitterly. 

Scott stutters, “Oh I don’t not want to dance it’s just…” The thoughts flash through his eyes like lightning. Hands against Tessa’s skin. Her body grinding against his. The ice cold rain. Bitter Scotland wind. Her voice pained.  _ You-you did this to us. _ His tears, her tears. His back against the wooden door. The smell of the damp castle. 

“So you just don’t want to dance with me,” she says sourly, downing the drink placed in front of her. 

Nerves swirl in his stomach and he tightens his grip on the chair. Just as the air starts to feel dense, he raises his hand to her, palm open. (Stop.)

The breath catches in Tessa's throat and she covers her mouth. It’s her fault this time. 

“I-I feel uncomfortable and want to talk,” he spits out their cookie cutter line and she grabs his wrist tugging him to the outside balcony. 

Once outside, it doesn’t help that the heavy spring air weighs them down even more. Crickets cover the tense quiet as he refuses to meet her eyes. 

_ You did ask to talk, idiot, so look at her.  _

Tessa takes the plunge first though, her words leaving him speechless. He’s so shocked that he asks her to repeat himself to make sure the thunder rumbling in the distance didn’t cover it up.    


“I said you’re being ridiculous. If you didn’t want to come with me you could’ve just brought Kaitlyn and I would have stayed well out of your way.”

Scott blanches. “What the hell Tessa?” The look on her face makes him want to backtrack but he pushes forward, knowing that it’ll only be resolved if everything is on the table. “I never said anything like that!”

“No, but you sure as hell implied it,” she shoots back. “‘We’re out of practice’? Give me a break, Scott. Even Mike knew that was a lie. You should’ve just straight up told him you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“Now you’re putting words into my mouth! I never said anything of the sort.”

“It was a dance Scott! What’s so wrong with a dance? Do you hate me that much that we,” her voice hitches and she curses the emotion threatening to bubble over, “... we can’t even dance anymore?”

“No! It’s because...because dancing with you sends images of dancing in Scotland, and it went from being on top of the world to crashing pain there, and I can’t let that happen to us again.” 

Tessa bites her lip hard. He thinks about it too. But she doesn’t see it the way he does. The argument and the fallout has nothing to do with the dancing. It was the look on his face. But he doesn’t know that...because they never talked about it.

After a few moments he starts to grow antsy. The anxiety threatens to explode out of him. “Tessa? Say something.”

His hands begin to shake, a sure sign of an oncoming panic attack. By refusing to dance with her, he's gone and hurt them yet again. Maybe he’s the unlucky charm when they go to these kinds of things. The doubt from earlier about coming back seeps its way into his bones with every passing moment of nonresponse. 

“I-I I’m sorry,” she grabs his hands in hers ,squeezing them. She brings his hands up to her face resting her head on the backs of his hands. She’s silent for a while and he assumes nothing but a continued repeated apology is coming. But then she starts and his breathing slows. Because Tessa Virtue is letting him in. And this doesn’t happen often.

“It...it was never about dancing. I love dancing with you. I always love dancing with you. It’s… it was…” 

Scott listens to her and tries to understand where she’s coming from. But he needs to understand - if it wasn’t the dancing, what was it? 

She thinks about how stupid it must sound but she says it anyways, “Scott...it was the look in your eyes that night. You just looked like...you made me feel…” She struggles to find the words to explain it. It was the top of a mountain, the highest of highs-- the thought that he, too, knows there’s something between them. But then, she fell-- shattered like glass cutting anyone who touched her.

He only has an inkling of how he’d made her feel. He’s spent almost every moment of his life since then living with the intense regret, knowing how it was him who was the root cause. “Tess--”

Tessa shakes her head, pleading with him silently. “No no just-- I felt like for a moment it was real. But then what you said after….it made it seems like everything we had worked towards-- every moment, every memory-- it felt like the world we shared between each other was nothing more than a facade for the ice. You destroyed me.”

Getting it all out feels like someone has lifted the heaviest weight off her chest. “And I get it-- I know why you said what you said, and I know now that it wasn’t fair of me to throw all of  _ that  _ at you. Don’t worry, it’s something we never have to worry or talk about again but--  I just never expected-- we always promised each other we’d never treat one another like that.” 

The absolute look of heartbreak on his face has her rushing to reassure him. “We’re gonna fix it though. We don’t need to worry about-- you know, the things I said in Scotland. Things are gonna get better. What happened happened. I just-- I think you needed to hear how I felt and why I reacted the way I did. We’re not going to repeat that, Scott.” She’s proud of herself for managing to hold in most of her tears at that point, chuckling lightly when his thumb comes up to swipe away the small pool that has gathered under her eyes. “Tonight though-- tonight I don’t get why you were so adamant you won’t do one “dance hold dance” with me. Is it really that hard?” 

He takes a deep breath, “I wish..it was easier for me to just look past Scotland, but Tess I still beat myself up about the things I said to you...I hope you know how sorry I am.” He rubs a hand down her arm, ignoring the way his fingers still tremble. “I don’t want you to think, we pretended...you know that’s not true. I do feel it when I skate with you.”

She wonders what  _ it _ is. _ Does he feel it when he dances with me too?  _ It’s the reason she likes dancing with him. It makes her feel...limitless.  _ God, she’s so cliche _ . 

“The only way we’ll move forward is if we move on from that...from Scotland. I...I just want to dance with you.”

Scott shuts his eyes tightly, and nods. All he ever wants is to make Tessa happy, protect Tessa’s happiness. But now he needs to think about his own happiness. Will dancing with Tessa make him happy? Perhaps he’s over thinking the whole thing. What’s a dance? One dance. He opens his eyes slowly, boring into her wide green eyes, and then he remembers why one dance is so damn hard. Because he stares into those gorgeous green eyes and every single memory of the girl in front of him comes back. And it all comes back to skating...because skating makes him forget about everything. Forget about the guilt, expectations, anger, hurt...all he thinks about is Tessa. But skating and in many ways Tessa, is the things he no longer has. Dancing with her...would make him forget that. He’s not sure if that’s good or bad, but he rips off his inhibitions like a bandaid.

“Okay, we’ll dance…” he says loudly, his voice then quieting to a whisper, “but you...you have to promise you won’t walk out on me.”

“We’re done doing that,” Tessa affirms, holding their interlaced hands between them like a promise. “You and I are gonna dance for a little bit, just like when we were fourteen and sixteen ripping up the dance floor at Nationals.” She fails to mention the bit about how she wanted him to hold her like they were twenty one and twenty three and press his lips to hers like everything in the world seemed right. 

_ You’re moving on Tessa. Things aren’t like that anymore.  _

For the first time since they burst outside, he laughs. “Alright, but you can’t laugh at my dance moves this time.” 

She rolls her eyes but decidedly tugs him back to the party, not even bothering to stop at their table to pick up their long forgotten drinks. Once on the dance floor, both seem to forget about the monumental conversation that had just happened. The songs are fast and peppy, sending them into fits of amusement as he swings her around. At some point Scott trades for Mike’s wife, watching somewhat sullenly as Mike whisks her off her feet, evoking out the purest Tessa-laugh he’d heard recently. 

_ I thought I was the only one who could do that.  _

“No wonder people question it.” 

Scott startles in the woman’s arms. “What?”

“Stop sulking, she’s having a good time. Mike won’t keep her. You can have her back soon.” 

Just as they finish the (dreaded) dance, the DJ feels the need to switch to slower, more intimate songs. “Go get your girl.”

He chooses not to correct her, kissing her cheek as a silent thank you. 

He stops in front of Tessa and Mike, their dance hold dropped as they exchange a few words. Scott opens an outstretched hand gently. “May I…” 

Tessa’s eyes flit to his hand and up to his face, searching to ensure the purest of intentions. She finds them in his eyes—calm, gentle, friendly, open. So she accepts his hand and finds her place flush against his body. His hands find her waist and she can’t stop the frisson of subtle excitement that trails up her spine when his thumbs brush the exposed skin in the back slit of her pants suit. Her arms relax on his neck and they sway. Scott drifts them into the simplest of steps; two forward two back and a rotation of direction. She loses herself and it feels almost as good as skating because the world around her fades and all the stress melts off her like ice cream in the heat. 

And when one melody fades into a slower one, their cheeks press side to side. He can feel her pressed against him and it feels like nothing's changed. He can still smell her strawberry shampoo and it feels like a banquet after some skating event. He can feel her soft breathing tickle his ear and he wishes that he could always feel like this, intrinsically connected to her. He was right, dancing with Tessa makes everything fade away - all the darkness that clouds his mind seems distant. It feels better than any glass of alcohol. In the back of his mind, he even whispers to himself, this is better than sex. 

So they waltz. He keeps one hand firmly on the small of her back, occasionally letting his fingers sweep over her soft skin. His other hand finds itself lightly intertwined with hers, fingers twining together loosely. It rests close to their hearts, (which— he notes happily— are pressed together) tying them together. 

“This is nice,” he murmurs, adjusting his shoulder so that she can lean her cheek against it. Not wanting to be to separate from her— because yes Scott Moir is going to be  _ that  _ kind of needy— he settles his cheek against the crown of her beautifully done hair. “For not having much practice we did pretty well, eh?”

By that point Tessa couldn’t have felt more carefree. “Mmmm.” She mumbles back, reveling in the way he holds her so... familiarly. They can do this. 

She is pleasantly shocked to find her heart doesn’t stutter as much as it might have.  _ Slowly but surely, Tessa.  _

Scott laughs, not even bothering to hide the kiss he presses to her hair. “Gettin’ tired of me Tess? We used to be able to do this all night long.”

“In your dreams, Moir.” The small tease comes out more as a resigned joke. “I can out dance you any day.” 

“I’d dance until you stopped. Or I dropped dead, whatever came first.” 

Her head lifts slightly to meet his gaze. “I’d do the same you know? Except the drop dead part.” 

“Wow. I knew it was only my killer dab that kept you around.” 

Tessa rolls her eyes, letting the giggles overwhelm her as her head flops back onto his shoulder (decidedly not nuzzling into the crook of his neck) “But it’s just so  _ good,  _ Scott.” 

And when the night comes to a close, Tessa feels happy. And Scott feels happy. And even when they go to their separate bedrooms, they both leave the evening content with their friendship. Scott muses to himself that he could get used to this feeling, the buzz of his own happiness energizing his before bed routine. 


	6. Chapter 6

He presses his blades into the ice with Tessa tucked under his arm, waiting for the music to play. They spent a few days in Ilderton practicing this number, they had already skated it in Stars on Ice earlier in the year. But now, listening to these words makes the butterflies swirl in his stomach. 

 

The familiar melody fills the air and they start their routine. He feels the moment she rolls out from under his arm the cool rink air nipping at his now empty arm. The lights dim, switching to hues of purple. When Tessa returns to her spot under his arm the spotlight brightens and they make eye-contact, drowning out the world around them. Just her and Sam Smith’s voice echoes through the empty arena. He doesn’t stop himself from pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder as per usual. 

 

Time seems to float away with the edge of their blades and Scott barely registers the last few strains of music before she’s pulling away, face completely flushed, but undeniably happy. 

 

“That was a good run.” She detours to the boards where she snatches her bottle to take a long sip. “I think we’re getting pretty good at this.” Her eyes shine, adding a whole new level of adorableness he’s shocked for previously missing. 

 

_ Had she always looked like that after a run through?  _

 

“Not too shabby for five months of the circuit, eh?” 

 

He finally looks at her and it strikes him. She had always looked like that. He just never let himself see it. And now that he does-- well he never wants to stop. 

 

His lack of response has the smile slipping off her face to be replaced with a look of confusion instead. “Scott? Did you hear me?”

 

“Oh yes, it was great.” He tries to quell her worries with a slight smile. “We still got it T.” 

 

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head as she turned away from him. 

 

Scott didn’t want her to think he was ignoring her so he speeds towards her, sweeping her up into her arms and tossing her over his shoulder. 

 

_ This was ok, right? Just friendly friends doing friend stuff.  _ He attempts to convince himself as she begs him to let her down (not, of course, before gifting him with one of her deep belly laughs.)

 

“Alright alright, I’ll let you go.”  Her hand to his chest has him crumpling in mock pain. “Hey!”

 

Sticking her tongue out at him, she slithers away, heading off the ice to cool down before dinner. His heart thumps as he fondly watched her leave. Yes, this was more than ok. 

 

She ties her hair up into a top knot and sits at the desk in her hotel room. She places her therapy notebook, folder, and pen in line on the desk. Just like in every therapy session she removes her watch and her bracelets. She has a habit of fidgeting when she’s anxious so she tends to eliminate the distractions as best she can. She flips her phone over on the corner of her desk and opens her notebook. 

 

She looks at her notes from her latest session, glancing to the little box in the top corner that she writes her homework in. This week she’s got an activity sheet, some reading, and an in-depth review of her list. She props her cheek upon her fist and considers the daunting tasks ahead. She really wants to focus, dedicate herself to this as she does her school work. It just doesn’t always work that way.

 

Her list, of course, had grown, since she last discussed it with her therapist. It was hard to swallow the small amount of disappointment her therapist could hardly hide as they talked about yet another couple of things Tessa was struggling with. 

 

But she was determined to keep cutting it down-- starting with...

 

 _Pity_. There was nothing more Tessa Virtue hated than a pity party, she was often the recipient of them from her mother or her sister or sometimes her friends. She hates when she would say something and the response would be ‘I’m sorry’. _Don’t apologize_ , she wants to scream. _Motivate me, inspire me, tell me_ _that I can do it, I will do it._ She wishes it were easier to ask for because asking for what she wants would be the only way to cross it off. Perhaps for another day.

 

Just thought of having to narrow more was starting to give her a headache. She rubs her temples tiredly, contemplating whether or not a bubble bath was in order. Nothing sounded better than some warm water followed up by a plush hotel bathrobe and a fort of pillows to nestle into before falling asleep. 

 

Her plans to relax are cut off by the vibrate of her phone. Flipping it over she’s greeted to her sister’s face wanting to Skype. 

 

_ So much for alone time.  _ She groans inwardly. She loves her sister though and begrudgingly wants to talk to her, so she slides her finger to accept the call, pasting on a smile at the grainy image that pops up.  

 

“Hey, Jord.” 

 

_ “ _ You’re already groaning through the phone and I haven’t even said anything yet,” she giggles. 

 

“I’m not groaning,” her voice squeezes and she realizes she was. 

 

“Whatever, how’s my baby sister?”

 

“Let see, I’ve got school work, therapy work, and an ice show on the agenda. So, busy.” She rattles off her voice lacking enthusiasm.

 

“I thought you like being busy. Didn’t you ask for busy?” 

 

Tessa huffs. “Well yes...but I just have a lot to do.” 

 

“Okay, okay. So how are things?” 

  
“You already asked me that,” Tessa asks pointedly being difficult when she knows what her sister is asking. 

 

“How’s therapy stuff?” 

 

“Can you not--beat around the bush. You can ask me you know, ask me if I’m feeling sad or anxious or whatever! I-I…” Tessa stares down at her notebook. She determines to remedy at least one line. 

 

Jordan is silent on the other end letting her sister finish her thought.

 

“I don’t want to be pitied.” 

 

“Tess...we don’t--”   
  


“OH, but you do!” Tessa pushes her chair back and stands beginning to pace the room. “You guys act like I’m going to break at any moment. Like anything you say to me is gonna shatter me into a million pieces!”

 

“Tessa come on--” 

 

“No, I’m serious Jordan. Both you and mom keep doing this thing where you dance around the tough parts of my life. I’m twenty-six years old I can handle things ok?”

 

She feels a little bad as Jordan takes in a breath. “Look I’m sorry Tess we just- we worry about you. You’ve been acting different since--”

 

“Since Scotland?” Tessa tries to control the anger bubbling in her stomach by working on the breathing techniques her therapist taught her. 

 

“No,” she can tell Jordan is getting annoyed. “Since  _ Sochi _ . Don’t get mad at us for caring Tessa. It’s not like we do it to annoy you and we certainly don’t do it to pity you.”

 

As her breathing begins to calm she returns to the desk practically curling up in her chair. She takes a few moments to gather her thoughts, intent on finally getting the damn thing off the list. “I know.” She murmurs, exhausted from the small outburst. “I’m sorry I-- I just don’t want people to keep treating me like glass. You and mom only want the best for me, I get it. But I’m tired of everyone avoiding the elephant in the room. I’m ok, really I can handle things.” 

 

She knows there’s a portion of that that’s a lie but she doesn’t want to give Jordan the fodder. 

 

“You know that..it would be easier if you called me and mom sometimes and told us when you’re not okay. So that we can,” she can tell Jordan is picking her words carefully, “be part of your life.” 

 

A light switch turns on in her head as Jordan’s words register. “I didn’t mean to shut you out.” Tessa stammers suddenly worried that she’s been shutting out more than she thought.

 

“I know you don’t but sometimes that’s what it feels like… I know you can handle this but let us help you handle it sometimes okay? Let plan something for when you get home.” 

 

Tessa nods remembering she can’t see her. “Okay.” 

 

Jordan stays silent for a few moments as Tessa draws patterns over the desk. “How’s Scott?”

 

“He’s fine— we’ve been doing ok since we got here.” Tessa wishes her voice sounded less shaky. It’s not like Jordan even knew everything that had gone on between them. 

 

Of course, Jordan being Jordan picks up easily on the unsteadiness. “Have you two talked at all?”

 

_ Why did everyone and their mother feel the need to ask her that?  _

 

“A little bit. I mean we talk but we don’t really talk. Sometimes we really talk. It’s just things have just been to busy that’s all.”

 

“Tess you gotta make time. The longer you wait the worse things are gonna get.”

 

“Things are already pretty bad.”

 

“They can’t get any worse than talking around the hard stuff.”

 

_ If only you knew.  _

 

“I know I know but—” her eyes fell to a photo of them on her desktop. It was simple, just the two of them goofing off on some tour. A time when things were far less complicated. She missed that time. 

 

“Things are just harder now.” 

 

“They don’t have to be. You can make it easier by just having an adult conversation. You two owe it to each other.” 

 

And then it was as if something clicked into place. As if she knew exactly what could fix them up and make things right again. “I think you’re right Jordan. I think— I know how to fix it.”

 

“Alright well— I love you Tess.” 

 

“Love you.” As she hears the call disconnect she lays her head on the desk. She picks up the pen and scribbles out ‘pity’ adding ‘shutting people out’ at the bottom of her list. Who else has she managed to shut out in the wake of her anxiety. She thinks of a couple of her friends and makes a mental note to plan a girls outing. If it was this easy with Jordan then getting through all her friends should be a breeze. 

 

Scott on the other hand— we’ll he would be a harder conversation. But if they could get through Scotland than they could do this. Especially now that she felt ten times lighter than she had over the past few years. 

 

Because Tessa Virtue knew now with the utmost clarity that Scott Moir no longer held her heart. And for that she was grateful. She and Scott could move on and be best friends again without the hazard of her feelings trying to break them apart. 

 

Things were gonna be good again for them and she couldn’t wait.

 

* * *

 

 

Tessa watches quietly as the rain drips down the window, tiny little droplets coming together to form bigger beads of liquid. The only sound keeping the somewhat tense atmosphere at bay came from the gentle patter of the storm above them.

 

She likes to think this was some kind of punishment for not talking to him earlier. Like some invisible source was pretty much pushing the two of them into having the life-altering conversation that was about to occur. She had the chance at breakfast but instead chose to chat excitedly with Carolina about their new show dresses they would get to try on.

 

The chance came again as he rubbed the back of his head shyly and asked her if she wanted to go exploring with him but of course, she just smiled kindly and told him to just give her a second to get her stuff together. 

 

Now he kept his eyes straight ahead and she kept hers out the window gazing at the lush green scenery or occasionally at him, gauging the somewhat stiff posture he held in the driver's seat. The environment around them so reminiscent of that Scottish country drive the two of them had a lifetime ago. Fate was certainly cruel. She groans internally. One of them has to talk, right? There has to be a point where someone opens their mouth and breaks the heavy stillness. 

 

But hey, they’d made almost an hour and a half without taking so far what was two and a half more? 

 

Perhaps she should clarify, they did talk but they didn't really talk. They walked on eggshells keeping whatever conversation light and airy. On the ice whatever built up tension from their lack of deep conversation would fade with every gaze, glide, and touch. But now she knew they had to have this conversation and she could see it going either way. She sighs loudly before starting prompting Scott to look over at her with an eyebrow raised. 

 

She covers her face with one hand like a child. “Have...have you thought about it?”

 

She spreads her fingers apart to gauge his reaction. A timid smile spreads across his lips, “Skating?” He confirms. He wishes she knew how nervous he was to have this conversation too. That his palms began to sweat under the steering wheel and his heart bangs against his ribcage. 

 

“Mhm,” she mumbles pulling her knees closer. 

 

He reaches out and pats her knee. “Let's just be honest okay...let’s envision it.”

 

“Ok.” It shocks her that his touch brings only a slightly pleasant feeling instead of one that makes the whole world tip on its axis to face him. “So-- let’s say we come back right? I don’t think-- Scott I don’t think I could go back to Canton.”

 

The few seconds of silence has a slight panic start to grow.  _ What if he doesn’t want to comeback anymore and he just wanted to let me start and--  _

 

He puts her out of her misery pretty quickly. “I agree. I don’t think Marina could really help us anymore. We could go to Anjelika and Pasquale?” She watches as he fidgets. An easy to tell that his heart’s not really in the suggestion 

 

“No Kaitlyn and Andrew are there and well--” Tessa bit her lip. Kaitlyn and Andrew would be pissed. The two had finally had their chance to take over Canada’s number one dance spot and if they came back that would be in jeopardy. 

 

Just the thought of the two of them upset had her nerves intensifying. Could they even reclaim their titles now? Two years off was a long time (assuming they’d resume in 2016 of course) and a lot had changed. 

 

“Whatcha thinking over there Tess?”

 

“Scott what if we can’t get back on top? There are so many good teams out there now. It’s not the same field we left. It’s-- it’s changed and we might not be ready to change with it.” 

 

“If we came back…” He shakes his head, “we'd have to be better we'd have to be the best we've ever been.”

 

He’s silent for a moment as he looks over his shoulder and changes lanes. “This comeback would have to be more than just winning because--”

 

Tessa nods picking up his sentence. “We could be better and still not win.”

 

“Remember when we re-watched our Sochi skates?” He thinks about the forced expressions, choreographed kisses, the dramatic hand over heart. Ugh, it makes his skin crawl. They could be better than that. 

 

“That free was so forced,” Tessa says with a puff of air. 

 

“That wasn't us, you know? I'd want our skating to look like, feel like, us.”

 

“Us,” Tessa repeats back. “I'd want us to be at the forefront of our team. I want us to call the shots. We're not kids, we comeback we'd treat this as a full-time job.” As the words come out of her mouth the spark of a comeback ignites within her. He can hear the passion in her voice and it excites him. They could be champions again. They could do it. 

 

He looks over at her tucked legs eyes glancing over her shins. They'd need more than passion to get through this. They'd need people behind them.

 

“I'm out of shape...and we need to be smart about your legs we can't just throw ourselves into this. We need help.” His mind drifts to Patrice and Marie, the people that have always looked out for them. 

 

“Marie and Patch...” She whispers and he smiles.

 

“I didn’t want to-- I talked to Patch after Sochi and I told him if we ever decided to it would be them. But I didn’t want to push you into it.”

 

_ I didn’t want to force you into anything _ . He doesn’t add. 

 

Tessa nods decisively. She lets herself dream for a minute what it would be like to be at the boards with her life's role model. She wonders what Gadbois is like, the feeling of stepping into that environment.  “Could we try it?” 

 

Scott shrugs, “Make a show number with them, we’d have to ask but… I can't see why not.”

 

Silence fills the car as the two ponder the possibilities. Scott thinks of all the fun moments they could have training with Marie and Patch but the sheer thought of just time spent with Tessa dedicated to a cause made him light up with energy. With enough excitement that he was certain would push him through any training day in the gym because he knew that he and Tessa working together was a good thing. 

 

To be completely honest with himself-- he’d wake up every day before the sun, put his body through the wringer and back, deal with shoddy judging and shitty media. Hell, he’d even deal with the friends they’d lose and the judgments from his family all to work with her every single day. 

 

_ It's only two years. You’re putting off actually making a decision that you’re too afraid to think of.  _

 

He pushes that thought far back into the recesses of his head, not wanting to even open that can of worms. 

 

“They uh-- said they would be willing to meet with us.” 

 

She turned to look at him. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well I-- you know how I said we talked after Sochi?” He clears his throat. “Patch told me that they’d hold a spot.” Scott tries not to freak out when she doesn’t respond immediately after. There was nothing more he wanted, and while the thought of letting his world be centered around them again used to scare him, now-- now he couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

 

“So you really think we should do this, eh?” Her question sounds more like a tentative answer. 

 

“I’m in.” He wants to hit himself for how desperate and excited he sounds. “I mean-- we can try things out first and see what we think.”

 

His eyes stayed forward as he chose his next words carefully. “If we came back-- we would-- we’d have to move to Montreal.” 

 

A smile fills Tessa’s lips, “I've always loved Montreal. It's the closest Canada has to Paris.” She presses her palms together nervously adding, “We’d really need to continue working in therapy... This can't be an escape route. This isn't an escape route for you right?”

 

Scott glances down for a moment before looking at Tessa with a nod, “I know I have things to work through and I promise to see that through.  But this is about skating...about untapped potential about things we could still do...about…”

 

_ And you. It's about being with you. Skating with you. Close to you.  _

 

“The Olympics.” She whispers adding “Do you think we could make it to the Olympics again?”

 

Just the thought of the Olympics makes him well up with pride. The thought of the maple leaf on his back and the country announced after his name… his name after her name. 

 

“I think we could do anything Tess. If we really wanted it. And we do have to really want it if we decide to do this. All in or nothing. We’re gonna make a lot of waves and we got to be ready to take that in stride and ignore it. Gadbois is going to have our biggest rivals. Are we ready to go through that for another cycle?”

 

She considers it, is she ready for two years of salad and less chocolate. And no wine? But then she looks up at his eyes, his eyes that remind of what it’s like when the music ends after a solid skate.  It feels like flying, she could do it. If it meant doing it with him. The feeling of doing anything with him is accompanied by his undying optimism and unconditional support. 

 

She lets the words tumble out. “If it’s you and me, we could do anything.” She says it with such sincerity and freedom and conviction that he too believes it. 

 

Believes they could topple the ice dance ranks and push the boundaries of their sport. They could be remembered for more than a subpar silver. 

 

“We do it?” He sticks his hand out and she claps hers into it. 

 

“Let’s do it.”

 

* * *

 

 

They appear to reach the wall at the exact same moment the agreement comes to fruition. Scott feels like he’s floating above the clouds that cover the large stone structure sprawling above them. He cuts the car engine but doesn’t move quite yet. A small shiver shoots down his spine at the thought of them about to conquer one of the world’s most famous wonders. Together of course. That word made him feel like everything was perfect between them again.

 

Sensing his hesitation, Tessa reached over to squeeze his hand. “You ready?”

 

Scott took a deep breath before nodding. “Yeah-- let’s do this.”

 

“Oh Scott?”

 

He was halfway out of the car when he turns to look back at her. She looks nervous like she was about to make the most important announcement of her life. “What’s up T?” 

 

“You don’t have to--- uh worry-- you know.”

 

His eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Worry? What would I worry about? You gonna find a new partner?”

 

“No uh-- what I said in Scotland-- about-- about my feelings.” She glances at her hands as if they’d somehow held the answer. “They won’t get in the way-- no I mean--”

 

His heart drops as she took in a breath. Why did it always work out this way where she pulls back and he trips forward, unable to stop himself from falling deeper and becoming attached.

 

(A minuscule part of him wants to say  _ in love  _ but he won’t ever admit to that. Especially with her desperately trying to convince him that she no longer wanted to feel like that) 

 

“They won’t be a problem. I’ve been working through things and well-- we don’t have to even worry about it.” 

 

He swallows whatever attempt of a denial that was. He hopes it’s a denial? An attempt to push away whatever feelings she had. Has? Had?  

 

He nods. They stand at the entrance to the wall, Tessa holding her hand over her eyes like a visor to attempting to see the other end. 

 

“Promise you won’t let me quit halfway through?” She says. 

 

“Promise, if you won't let me quit.”

 

She grins at him almost childlike looking at the feat in front of them. 

 

Under his breath just like skating he whispers to her “The journey begins here…”

 

She can’t help the frisson of excitement that ripples through her body. She know he means more than the wall. 

 

In a breath, she adds “Together.”

 

He nods, “together.” She looks down at her worn pink and grey sneakers and his black ones as they take the first delicate step up to the wall. 

 

They start the walk in the sun and the heat pausing for Tessa to tie her grey sweater around her hips. He holds out his hand to help her over the, particularly uneven steps. She taps him to take a sip of his water when she notices he’s sweating. 

 

Every few steps they remind each other to take it in, pointing out the surroundings and snapping pictures to commemorate the journey. They’re about halfway when it starts to rain. Tessa holding her hands out and tipping her head back feeling the rain drip and fall into her palms. He smiles unbashfully, following her gaze up to the sky feeling the cool droplets on his face. Not once do they consider turning around, they barrel on forward resting when necessary. 

 

When they reach the highest tower, they sit side by side shoulder pressing together sweat dripping off them both sharing a bottle of water they purchased having polished off their own. 

 

Scott points out the distance. “Look how far we’ve come.”

 

Tessa squints through the dense fog. “Long journey.”

 

They heard the buzz about halfway through their walk, Beijing was awarded the 2022 Olympics. It seems like fate is here making their own decision at the same time. “We can do this,” she says confidently nudging his shoulder gently. He knows instantly she’s talking Olympics. 

 

“I know we can.” He stands up first reaching out to help her stand. “Let’s finish this.” 

 

It takes no time before they reach the highest point of the wall. Sweat mixes with the rain as the two of them race each other along the stone barriers, laughing about everything and nothing. He startles two unsuspecting tourists into taking their picture with the mist behind them, grinning like idiots. 

 

By the time they start to make their descent, the day had cooled significantly, and with it the beads of liquid on their skin. Tessa shivered, pulling her thin sweater closer to her body to preserve warmth.

 

It took him a few more seconds then normal, not sure if carrying out what he wanted to do would be readily accepted by her. With the two of them on such thin ice one move could seem so shockingly similar to what he had coined the “towel” incident, he unwrapped his own cover-up, draping it delicately over her shoulders. 

 

“Can’t have you catching a cold before our big show.” He supports the action feebly, shrugging his shoulders to try and keep the conversation easy. 

 

He’s rewarded with one of her thankful smiles as they continue to trudge downhill. “Good to know you got my back.” 

 

“Always T.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, we're sorry! If you're still out there caring about this story. Here's this chapter. We appreciated you! Please comment if you're still here reading. Final one coming soon.

Over the music blaring in the hotel bar, Tessa speaks loudly to the bartender ensuring her next drink is strong. If another fucking person tells her how— “Tessa, you guys were something else out there tonight... it really clicked… smoking” -- she’s going to kill someone. 

She’s well aware how it looked, likely because she could tell you how it felt. The heat of the lights, the cold of the ice, the solid safe feeling of being tucked under Scott’s arm. Everything else was a distant afterthought to the feeling of looking into Scott’s eyes. She was hearing the music feeling every caress and pull of heartache. She could feel herself wondering as Sam Smith echoed  _ How will I know.  _ She should’ve known she could never hold back her feelings on the ice. With every exhale they escaped from her soul. But he was there with her too, with every grip of his shirt, he squeezed her arm. He met every longing gaze with as much contempt as her. They were in sync more than just in movement but in character, but this piece was never about a character. This piece was supposed to reflect the music. And the music, it reflected them. 

_ How will I know… _

Scott watches over the shoulder of his castmates, not really paying attention to the conversation at hand, but rather watching Tessa down back another alcoholic drink. He’s pretty sure on any other occasion Tessa religiously insists on her mother’s one glass of water for every two drinks in order to stay classy. He can tell something is up when her water remains untouched on the bar while yet another shot is tipped back at Carolina’s request. 

So he pushes away from Javi and the guys, (who are of course needling him on his overly sensual performance from earlier that evening) and pushes through the crowd of buzzed skaters. When he reaches her, he’s taken aback by her unfocused gaze and slight tilt. Carolina and Meagan giggle, each flanking her side to keep her from tipping too far over. Tatiana Volosozhar watches all three in amusement. 

When her glazed over eyes meet his, her whole face lights up. “Scotty! Have a drink, it’s open bar!”

She tears away from the ladies, launching herself shakily towards Scott. He is lucky years of catching her has him grabbing her on second nature. 

“Woah T. Looks like you’ve had quite a few drinks so far.”

“Don’t be a wet blanket!” Her hand smacks him on the chest as she rolls her eyes. Tessa can be quite dramatic when drunk. “Take a shot with me!”

“I’m quite alright, I’ve got a beer over there.” He points to a half finished glass on one of the table tops across the room. 

“You’re no fun.” The pout she gives him almost has him chugging back an entire bottle of vodka. But he knows with every shaky step she takes it will be better for him be sober to make sure his partner doesn’t end up getting taken advantage of by Misha Ge or something.

_ Easy there Scott, your green is showing.  _

“How much has she had to drink?” 

Tati looks up from her wine and shrugs. “She’s having a good time.”

Well, he can tell that much. Drunk Tessa means touchy feely giggly Tessa. Which-- don’t get him wrong, he loves. Having a Tessa who actually wants to be around him and doesn’t flinch at every touch he initiates is great. Hell, he loves it. 

Unfortunately it also means a grumpy, tired, and clingy Tessa later. So getting her safely tucked into bed is his first priority. 

“Just let her have fun.” Tati adds as she watches Scott push the untouched water in Tessa’s line of vision. Somehow Eric has joined the gaggle and is now trying to see who can handle tequila the best. 

“Yeah, Moir.” A solid clap on his shoulder has him flinching. Great, the guys have found them. “Let your partner unwind. After a sizzling performance like that I wouldn’t blame her for wanting to forget you.” 

He gives in. He takes two shots of tequila in one hand and slams one down in front of Tessa. She squeals loudly, picking it up to clink his glass, “To forgetting!” 

He feels the burn down his throat before the words register. He smacks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, placing a hand on the base of Tessa’s neck. “You okay…” he whispers, leaning closely to her ear and stroking gently.

She reaches up behind herself, snaking her arm behind his neck, holding him close to her. Her eyes flutter close and she takes deep breaths. He stays frozen behind her, feeling her body pressed against him. He has to will himself not to wrap his other arm around her hips to settle in even closer. He wants so badly to dip his head to her neck and trail his lips across her soft skin as if they’re skating. 

“Hm?” he asks again settling for breathing in her hair.

“It’s nice sometimes,” she purrs, “to just not care about the feelings.” She finishes quickly, pushing herself off the barstool. She places a cold hand on his face, followed by a single finger tracing his jawline, before she skips away finding a spot on the other side of the bar beside Carolina. 

He flops on the bar stool, almost falling off, downing Tessa’s cup of water, thinking about her green eyes boring into his as she traced his jaw line. _ Not care about the feelings.  _ He mutters it to himself over and over again, wishing he could join her. But one of them has to get them home safely.

A glance at his watch has him trailing not far behind the group, which has somehow managed to obtain another round of shots. They cheer loudly as Plushenko finally gives in and tips back the bitter drink.

_ Oh Tess.  _

Something has to be terribly wrong for her to let go like this. Sure, Tessa is no prude when it comes to drinking, but drinking with abandon like this only happens once in a blue moon (or when she wants to forget something important). He knows she’ll definitely come to regret this decision in the morning. 

“I think it’s time we get going.” He cuts into the crowd, reaching out a hand for Tessa to grab onto. “It’s getting late and we’ve got stuff we gotta do tomorrow and--”

Tessa bats his hand away, swaying on the balls of her feet. “I’m perfectly fine staying down here. I’m not leaving.” She hiccups, which Scott would have thought was the cutest thing ever had she not refused his request to exit. 

“Tessa come on, it’s late and you need to sleep.”

Her eyes flash dangerously and for a moment Scott feels frozen in his place. “You’re not my mother. I am an adult and I can do what I want. You don’t own me.” 

He backs up, holding his hands up with defeat (for now). He pointedly gets another glass of water and sets it down in front of Tessa. He sits nervously on a couch and waits. Waits and watches. He watches her tuck the stray curl behind her ear. He watches her polish off a pink coloured drink in a martini glass. He watches as she starts to fade, noting her pop a mint in her mouth and sip the long still water. 

He’s starting to doze off as he stares out at the illuminated city lights. He has flashes of his skate with Tessa. Her soft skin under his hands, his lips on her shoulder, her hair in his face. He considers that he still could be dreaming when he sees her creamy white legs at his eye level. He looks up to find her flushed face, hair do slightly fraying. 

“Let’s go, sleepy head,” she tells him with heavy eyelids and a soft smile. 

She starts walking away, heels clicking on the linoleum before he can even stand. It only takes him two sober strides to make up with her unstable stagger. His hand takes its place on her hip, welcoming her to lean on him. She sighs, giving him weight, leaning her head over to his shoulder. 

“Perfect height,” she muses shaking her head. “So fucking perfect,” she whispers roughly. 

He ignores the comment, choosing not to add to the flame burning within her. He guides them slowly down the hall, away from the bar. He really thinks at this point it would be easier to carry her, but he doesn’t want to push the boundaries, so instead he holds her tightly to him, her body flush against his. 

He’s already resolved to pretend the whole evening doesn’t exist tomorrow, in efforts to allow things to stay status quo. But then suddenly she shoves away from him leaning over to her left. He feels her body lurch under his hand and he hears the liquid hit the floor. He holds on to her with one hand, with other hand holding back her hair from falling in her face. 

He hears the sound of other people walking by, but he doesn’t so much as look up. That is until he hears one of them chuckle, “Puke it up buddy.”

Heat burns in his blood and he retorts angrily and firmly, gritting his teeth, “Shut the fuck up.” If she wasn’t in his arms, he’d have socked the guy square in the face. Tessa shakes in his arm again, her body continuing to reject the alcohol. 

When she slows, he soothingly reminds her it’s okay, slowly steadying her in his arms. He pulls her straight to his chest and she rests her forehead square against him, her hands clutching his forearms, still attempting to catch her breath. He stands there, half praying she won’t throw up on him, the other half hoping he can get her to her hotel room soon. 

“It’s okay,” he says again, and slowly she leans back to look up at him. The second their eyes meet, tears well-up and she begins to sob. “It’s not okay, I just puked in a hotel lobby.” 

“Oh kiddo,” he tucks her under his arms in a hug as she sobs. He releases his hold, ready to hopefully carry her back to her room. 

“Can I just carry you?” he asks her, almost matter of fact. 

She stumbles back a few steps, her hands resting on her knees as her body can’t keep up with her breathing. Tears run down her face, leaving eyeliner lines in their wake as she shakes her head. “This is so fucked up. You can’t be like this. You can’t still be here after all this.” 

“Tessa, what are you talking about?” He calmly takes a step forward, confused when she counteracts him, moving further away. “Tessa--”

“No Scott. We aren’t playing this game again.” 

She’s a mess (a beautiful, exhausted mess) but he can’t just leave her here. Not after she’s emptied her stomach into a dimly lit hotel hallway and can barely stand straight. “There’s no game Tessa, I’m just trying to help you to bed.”

“I-I don’t need your help.” The poisonous tone she takes surprises him. If it wasn’t for the slight warble, he might think she’s ready to kill him. “I’m fine, just leave me alone.”

Scott draws in a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. He thinks about his therapist, trying desperately to employ some of the breathing tactics she’d taught him. No matter what she says, they will  _ not  _ have a repeat of Scotland. 

“I am not leaving you alone after you just threw up all over, Tessa. Come on.” 

“I am not incapable of taking care of myself you know.” Her steely glare cuts through him, making him shiver. He is quickly remembering that drunk, mad Tessa is not a fun person to be around. “I was having a good night, I don’t need you to ruin it. I don’t need your pity.”

His mouth opens and closes as he searches for a reply. “Jesus, Tess. I just want to help. I’m not trying to feel bad for you.” He kind of does, but he isn’t going to let her know it. 

“You have no obligation to me, ok? We can’t-- we can’t act like this.”

Ok, now he’s getting frustrated. “Act like what? Like I care? Like a good partner should act when his other half is puking in hotel hallways?”

“Don’t act like you’re doing me a favour-- Scott, I’m not your girlfriend.”

Her words hit him full force, knocking the air from his lungs. 

She clutches at the wall, trying to push past him. “I’m fine, ok? I’m not the one you should be worried about.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He doesn’t mean to grab her wrist like he does but he can’t help it. There is no way she’s going to leave him exposed like that without an explanation. 

“Maybe instead of focusing so much on me - which is fucked up when I’m nothing more than your skating partner - you should focus more on yourself.” She takes off her heels and continues down the hall, holding the wall for support. 

Scott runs his hand through his hair, watching her walk away.  _ Focus on myself?  _ He needs to stay calm. He needs to focus on the task at hand. As soon as she’s in bed and not getting sick, he can leave her. He can forget this night ever happened (as if it was that easy). He follows her, staying a few steps back. When she doesn’t make a turn at the elevator, he gently prompts “left.”

She mutters, “Thank you.” 

When they get into the elevator they stand on opposite ends and he watches her stare at the floor numbers. He doesn’t press a number, waiting for her to take the lead. He intervenes when he sees her lips tremble, quickly pressing 18. He places a hand on her shoulder, still an arms length away, and rubs a small circle with his thumb. 

“Take it easy on yourself Virch.” He gets out of the elevator first and he wonders if she’ll remember her room, in the opposite direction as his. When she doesn’t, he leads the way, stopping in front of her door. “I-I don’t have a key,” she shrugs, her eyes wide and lost as a small child. 

“Your dress has pockets,” he reminds her, thinking back to much earlier in the night, when had informed him of that fact with so much delight he wanted to bottle it up for moments like right now. Shoving her hand into her pockets, she pulls out a key and slides it into the door, pushing it open. She allows him in and he takes a seat on the chair in the corner of the room. She sits on her bed and lays back almost instantly. 

The thought runs through Scott’s head almost instantly: friends don’t let drunk friends fall asleep on their back. “Tess, you should sleep on your side… or your stomach.”

“Why do you care so much?” she asks, staring up at the ceiling, the words echoing into the room. 

“I just want you to be okay…”

“Not like that. I mean, why do you hold me when I throw up in the lobby. And stay at the bar when you clearly don’t want to be there?” 

“All I ever want, Tess, is to make sure you’re safe and happy.” He’s calm when he says it, despite her escalating tone. 

“Well, what about you? Are you happy?”

“I’m working on happiness, you know that, but it’s better than—“

“Is staying in that fucked up relationship making you happy?” She says happy like the word is foreign coming out of her mouth.

He works hard to control the tick in his jaw. “What the fuck, Tessa?”

“What? I’m just saying it like it is.” She gestures randomly with her hands, eyes still stuck on the ceiling. “Last time I checked, calling me during a family dinner with your significant other and crying doesn’t scream blissful.” 

_ She’s drunk, she doesn’t realize what she’s saying. Lashing out at her isn’t going to help anyone.  _

So he ignores her, walking into the small ensuite bathroom and fetching her a glass of water and advil he knows she keeps in the side pocket of her makeup bag.

When he returns, she hasn’t moved. “I think it’s time for you to sleep.” 

Her humorless laugh makes his stomach turn inside out. “Do you think about her? When you’re skating with me?”

The words he has ready to assure her with are swiftly cut off: “I wouldn’t blame you if you did, you know.” She struggles to turn onto her side, choosing to keep laying on her back, eyes glassy. “Honestly, whatever makes you happy.”

“Never.” His tone is sharper than he intends but she needs to understand. “Tessa. I could never think of anyone else when I’m skating with you.” 

“Maybe you should.” The suggestion cuts deep. “Start helping yourself. If we’re gonna comeback, we need to get this mess out of our system.”

“You wanna talk about mess? I’m not the one lying drunk on a bed because I couldn’t control myself.”

“Fuck off,” she mutters with little conviction. “At least I can admit to myself that I’m miserable and I’m working on fixing it. I’m not ignoring it by trying to fix everyone else.”

Their eyes meet and it physically hurts him to see her like this. He wants so badly to reach out and touch her but he has a feeling that it wouldn’t be well received. “I’m not going to think about her when we skate.”

She searches for the lie. “You promised me you were going to work on getting better. Why the fuck are you letting yourself get worse?” 

He stands up and sits on the bed next to her, leaving space between them. “I’m getting better T, I’m trying so fricken hard. Why don’t you believe me? I’m invested in this T.”

She reaches for his shoulder and tugs him to lay down. His body relaxes into the soft bed beneath him. Her voice is soft as she continues, “You think I don’t remember?” She has a soft yet knowing tone, “You don’t see yourself with her… marrying her… Christmas with her…” She rolls onto her side, facing him, propping her elbow up so her fist can support her head. 

“So why? Why be miserable, wasting time with her.” 

He stares up at the ceiling, listening to Tessa throw his words back in his face. She’s right, those are all the logical reasons he broke up with Kaitlyn. 

“Why get worse and be unhappy and... and…” she tenses as she says the last part -- “break your promise to me.” 

He feels part of him splinter as she says that. The thought that he could break his promise to her hurts him. He can’t do this anymore, he can’t hold back. “I broke up with her. For real. Done. Ended over. Weeks ago.”

She inhales sharply, and sits up, backing herself up until she hits the headboard. She mindlessly picks up a pillow and places it on her lap.  _ What has she done. _

“Tessa?” His voice breaks through the fog in her head, but she doesn’t look. Looking could result in the waterfall of emotions crashing down between the two of them, completely unwanted. 

“I--I’m sorry,” is the only thing she’s able to say without shattering. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Scott fiddles with a loose thread on the comforter. “I didn’t want to worry you. It was months in the making though.”

“I shouldn’t have been around as much as I was-- she probably thought I was trying to interfere with your guys’ relationship when I really was just trying to--” 

“Tessa! This isn’t your fault. If anyone here is shouldering the blame it’s me and only me.” 

“Not only did you lie to me about this, but you let me act like a complete fool.” She clutches the pillow close to her chest as if to protect her. “I think you should go.”

“So I lay it all on the line for you and you’re done?” He swings his legs over the side of the bed but doesn’t stand. “If we really want to do this Tessa, we need to fight for it. Not just give up when things get hard.” 

Her eyes narrow. “You laid it all on the line weeks after it happened, Scott. You weren’t honest with me.”

She doesn’t know what hurts more. Knowing he’s kept this from her or knowing she probably played a pretty significant role in whatever had gone down. 

“I just-- it’s just that delicate, Tessa. You and I-- we can’t even fucking talk seriously without hurting each other. Collateral from twenty years I guess.” He doesn’t mean to sound so bitter, so he turns around to lay a gentle hand on her foot. 

“I need you to know, I just wanted to keep you happy and I knew by finding my own happiness I could do that. I--I thought breaking up with Kaitlyn was just a small detour. I didn’t think you’d need to know about it.” 

“So...so why did you break up?” She lifts up the covers and tucks her feet under the blankets, his hand feeling the loss of contact instantly. Reaching over to the side table she grabs the water and swallows the advil. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and releases a soft breath. “My mom and I had a talk that night. That night I called you…” He sits up and Tessa pats the empty space beside her. He scoots up to sit beside her, kicking off his shoes in the process. 

He knots his hands together like in therapy and continues, “At this point, what I need to do to get better is to choose the aspects of my life I want to focus on, and dedicate myself to them. Most importantly, the things that make me happy…and I really had to make the decision to end things with her to focus on me.”

He looks over at her and she moves herself close to him. Her under the covers, him over the covers, and she throws her arm around his waist tucking her face against his body. 

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, sounding sober and drained. He splays a hand on her back and leans down to press his lips to her hair.

They don’t say anything else for a long time. Scott realizes she’s nodded off when her breathing becomes slower and more even. His fingers continue to ghost over the fabric of her shirt, pressing gently so as not to wake her. 

Scott swallows a chuckle as he watches her relax completely, nestling close to his hip. “I’m not gonna stay T. You need your sleep.” The tightening of her fist around the sheets by his arm says differently. 

“You know I’m doing this for you.” His voice is barely above a whisper as his fingers skitter across her forehead, pushing a few stray hairs out of her eyes. “You’re the only aspect of my life that I want to focus on. I know I keep promising things but—“ Scott’s eyes soften as her grip begins to loosen. “I’m going to see this one through. I know you don’t feel the same way, but I’m going to work for you to trust me again. It’s gonna be my goal these next two years.” He continues to watch her breathe, readjusting his hand to rest on her back as she settles against him. His eyes close.

The need for water pulls her from her sleep and she reaches for a cup she almost always leaves on the side table. When her hand touches a solid body beside her, her eyes fly open, heart racing. She’s scared; has she made a terrible mistake? As her eyes focus a sense of calm spreads over her, a familiar face slack of the day’s worries. She feels a pang of sorrow in her chest, remembering the trouble she put him through. She feels worse that he fell asleep like this—still in jeans and a dress shirt, above the covers, his body half propped up. 

She slowly untucks the part of her body that was underneath him, careful not to wake him. She crawls out of the bed, feeling restricted in her dress. She steps delicately around the the bed, her legs weak she sits gently beside Scott, picking up the glass of water and downing it quickly. Her eyelids heavy and her mind still foggy, she takes a moment to focus her energy. She inhales deeply but her dress restricts her movement. Take it off, she wills herself, needing another moment to remember how to move her limbs. She arches her back, reaching behind to unclip the halter. She pulls it down her chest, her tired arms falling to her lap. 

He feels the bed sink beside him and his eyes flutter open. He supposes he’s dreaming as his eyes take in the creamy expanse of her back, some sort of dark lace laying low just about 3 inches above her waist. 

Itchy. Her next thought comes suddenly and the need to remove the lace bra becomes urgent. One motion, she thinks: move less. With her eyes closed she pushes herself to stand, turning herself in a circle to reach the low back clasp on her lace bra. She tugs at it and shrugs it off, instantly feeling freer. 

Through heavy eyelids he watches her stand and turn her body towards him as she tosses off the black lace. Perfect dream, he muses, unable to help the smile that falls across his lips as his eyes take in her bare chest, beautifully sculpted abs, taut pink nipples. 

She pulls the rest of the dress off herself, stepping out of it as it pools around her feet. Her hand goes up to her hair as she attempts to consider the whereabouts of her pajama shirt. She pulls the pins from her updo, discarding them on the bedside table as her hair tumbles down around her shoulders.  _ Pillow, under her pillow. _ She remembers her pajama shirt tucked under her pillow. One hand stabilizing her, she reaches over Scott, searching under her pillow. 

His eyes skirt downwards as the black material falls to the ground, revealing in its wake the tiniest piece of lace. Her arms reach up and release her hair and it’s like every shampoo commercial he’s ever seen but a million times better.  _ Fuck. He won’t soon forget this dream.  _ In dreams, he’s allowed to enjoy this. In dreams, he’s allowed to touch, to  _ feel.  _ But something keeps him from reaching out and fulfilling his most desired fantasy. He thinks that if this is how he dies, death by Tessa, it would be a good way to go out.  

She can barely pull the t-shirt from under the pillow and over her head before another wave of fatigue hits her. Her legs feel even weaker than before and she has to hold the bed, making it only to the bottom before her knees give way and she settles on the bed. After another moment she manages to crawl up and tuck herself under the covers, falling asleep instantly. 

As the white fabric falls over her body, his body awakens. He realizes this is not a dream at all. Moments ago, a nude Tessa stood in front of him. Scott suddenly feels wired. His whole body practically vibrates with energy he’s trying desperately to control. Tessa seems to now be out cold beside him, her (practically) naked body has found her way back to him, curled tightly around him. Oh God, he has to get out before it became too much to bear. Or worse, she’ll wake up and see exactly the reaction her presence is causing. He needs an ice cold shower or some kind of slap in the face. 

He tries to pull away from her, doing his very best to be subtle and not disturb her. But Tessa refuses to let him go. After attempting to pry her fingers that had now fastened around his waist he realizes it’s a lost cause. 

“Fucking hell, Tess, you can’t do this to me.” His voice shakes as his arms come to rest away from her. Any kind of touch might ignite something deep and forbidden within him. “You know how I feel. This just-- you aren’t-- we don’t--”   

With a small groan he gives in and decides to stay. “Please don’t be mad at me in the morning?” Leaning down, he presses the lightest of kisses to the crown of her head. “I’ll be gone before you know it.” With that he falls into a restless sleep, his arms finding purchase around her small figure not long after. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL?! We made it! Here's the last chapter. We have just started story boarding for the next installment of this fic, Toronto, so expect a bit of a delay but it'll come back. Thank you so so so much for sticking with us through all this we LOVE YOU! As always, huge thank you to our two amazing editors!  
> (Note: I edited ch 7 cause I realize it posted without formatting)

The next morning is-- awkward to say the least. She wakes with a pounding headache and mouth that feels like it's covered in cotton. Her eyes swim as she leans over to find another glass of water and dose of advil, along with a bucket. Strong light filters through the closed curtains as she glances around, confused. Scott of course, is nowhere to be seen.

A small pit expands in her stomach, which she chalks up to leftover nausea. 

(She also claims that the vomit that comes up seconds later is just the excess alcohol. Obviously not the fact he isn’t there.) 

She reaches around for her phone, having to get up and pull it from her dress pocket. She sees Scott's name across the top and she squints to read through her pounding headache. 

**_I left to pack up my stuff and get ready. Our flight is at 10:30am. You should be ready by 8am. I’ll bring you coffee. Be ready, I’ll call if you don’t text back by 7:30am._ **

Glancing at the clock she sees the time - 7:23 am - and groans. Typing out a quick text to him, she slides out of bed slowly, breathing out deeply as she stands unsteadily on her feet. She dreads the thought of a long travel day ahead, and knows a shower is necessary so she can feel at least half human. So she stumbles to the bathroom, turning the water on before slipping in. 

The scalding water feels good as it washes away the previous night’s events. Sure, she can’t remember half the things that happened after Max had passed her the third shot, but at least she’d had a good time with everyone. Her mind struggles to piece together what had gone on after she and Scott decided to leave the party and return to their rooms (had she really puked in a hallway?) but her memories seem blurry and distorted. 

Had Scott really slept on the bed or was her mind back to playing its unfair game of reminding her that no matter how hard she’d tries to repress them, feelings didn’t just go away? And had he told her that he and Kaitlyn were done?

She leans her head against the tile, begging the throbbing to stop so she can just sort things out for two seconds so she doesn’t have to head into her trip home with false hope and fake sympathy. 

She reluctantly pulls herself from the shower, knowing she’ll have some packing to do. She pulls on her travel clothes--leggings and a loose t-shirt to be layered with a sweatshirt. She continues to make sense of her mangled thoughts as she wrings the water from her hair. Another wave of fatigue hits her and she silently wishes she had coffee. 

As if in answer to her wish, a knock on the door pulls her from her bed. She glances at the time, much too early for Scott she thinks. She opens the door to him standing there with two Starbucks cups in hand she’s confused, much too early for someone always fashionably late.

“Hi stranger,” he says with a chuckle in response to her bewildered expression.

“Hi,” she says shyly, a soft blush spreading over her cheeks, feeling embarrassed about her previous night’s actions. He holds the cup forward to her and she closes her eyes as she savours the first sip of caffeine.

He follows her in, stopping in front of the chair full of her clothing. “Sorry...sorry,” she picks up the pile of clothing, dumping it on the bed behind her. 

Scott stares at the chair, her black lace underwear having been left behind. He finds his own cheeks flushing at the thought of the previous night. The images burn through his head as she folds the clothes quickly, her back to him. They lock eyes when she turns and he raises his eyebrows, glancing over at the chair. 

“Oh,” she says loudly, plucking the underwear from the chair and walking over to shove it straight in her luggage. 

“So…” Scott says, rubbing his hands together mindlessly, “I thought you might have some questions… so I came early.” 

She refuses to meet his gaze, instead fumbling with the zipper. “Um what exactly— what happened last night?”

He shuffles over to the bed, sitting down gingerly on the corner of the unmade sheets. “You uh— had a little too much to drink.”

_ No shit.  _ She wants to bite back at him but refrains. “Right. Did I do anything crazy?”

“Well.” Scott ran a hand through his hair awkwardly. “You kinda threw up in the hallway.”

Tessa cringes. So much for her good girl persona. 

“But I uh— got you into your room and you fell asleep pretty quickly.” He fiddles with his fingers, unsure of how much he should actually divulge to her. “I stayed here for a little bit, but um you were out cold and I know you probably didn’t want me to be here when you woke so I left.” 

“Oh.” 

The air in the room turns thick. “Nothing happened Tess.”

It irks him that she still refuses to look in his general direction. But he knows that too much push would cause her to pull far, far away from him. “I promise.” 

“Did we talk about something?” 

Scott rubs his lips together. Taking a pull of his drink, he looks down at the floor. “How much do you remember?” 

Tessa closes her eyes shut tight, bringing her hands up to her head, “Did you say you broke up with Kaitlyn?” 

“Oh--that...yes, that’s true.” 

She turns to sit on the bed, eyes on the floor across from him. “Sorry.” 

“It is what it is.” He shrugs nonchalantly.

“Picking happiness...it’s important,” she says, eyes finally flickering up to his. She remembers some of what he said last night. Words trickling back here and there. She knows he made the right decision.

He runs a hand through his hair, “Yeah, I told you that last night...I needed to pick my happiness and recovery as the focus.” 

“I’m proud of you,” she tells him, tilting her head at him, a content smile just maybe breaking through her lips. 

“Thanks,” he says, diverting eye-contact as he removes the lid on his cup, instantly regretting it as he realizes he’s not even halfway done. He attempts to force it back on the cup but fails. Tessa stands up wordlessly, taking the cup from him, and sets it on the dresser and clicks the lid back in place. She hands him back the cup, lowering her eyes to meet his.  

“I am,” she insists. She’s so sincere in front of him and he knows she means it.

His smile is flat but he hopes it’s enough to convince her. “Thanks T.” 

They stare at each other for a few seconds longer than necessary before red creeps into their cheeks and forces them to look away. 

“I um-- I guess I should bring your stuff downstairs. If you’re ready of course.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, standing slowly. “The bus is leaving in 15 minutes so uh-- don’t take too long.” 

“Yeah-- of course here.” She hands him her suitcase silently, their fingers brushing on the exchange. “I’ll I-- I’ll see you down there.”   

He moves towards the door, all her bags in tow, and suddenly the smoke clears in her head.  _ She doesn’t deserve him.  _ “Scott! Wait.”

He freezes and looks over his shoulder at her. She shoves herself forward between the luggage and the wall, her kneecap smacking the wall in the process. She flails one arm open for him, pulling him to her chest, looping both arms around his neck before his hands even leave the luggage.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you for not leaving me when I was an asshole at the bar and thank you for not walking away when I puked in the hall. God, I can’t believe I puked in the hall.” Her voice is high pitched and she hates it but she has so much to say and she can’t stop. She has to fix it.

“Thank you for putting up with all the stupid stuff I said when I was drunk and please don’t carry around anything hurtful I might of said or done because…” the last part drifts out with her breath, less than a whisper and more of a prayer, “you’re everything to me.”

Her body vibrates against his chest and his hand slips around her middle, holding her gently despite her vigor. He wonders if she carries around things he’s said in drunken stupors...he sure hopes not. He wishes she meant it when she said  _ everything _ . But as she continues to whisper unremitting thank you’s into his ear, he melts around the edges and holds her tighter. No matter what, she’s his Tess. The little freckled girl that took his hand at only 7 and that he swore to protect. She’s the one that he gave his first kiss to and the one that’ll break his heart a million times over but he’ll keep coming back. Because she’s his Tessa, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

It’s almost as if when he squeezes her tighter, the dam breaks and a choking, crying sound comes out of her. He runs his hand up to squeeze the back of her neck and tries to calm her, “It’s okay.” 

She pulls back just a fraction, her hands gripping his neck as tears run down her face. “You’re still my best friend right?” Her whole body is shaking, emotions hitting her hard and fast. She’s not even sure what’s happening but she needs him to promise her that no matter what... _ no matter what we’re together...and no matter what I love you.  _ She knows she won’t get that. She searches his face as his eyes continue to scan her’s. She cups his face between her hands, willing him to answer her, “Best friends?” 

He watches her fall apart under his hands (not the way he wishes it meant). For the first time in a while, he sees how truly broken she is. How hurt she is too. He knocks his forehead against hers, “Always, T.”  As he’s pulling her back into a hug, he glances down at her parted lips and fluttering eyes and his heart splinters at the lost moment. Her body hits his chest and he affirms, “Best friends.” He couldn’t have done it. It’s not the time nor the place. But there’s a fleeting thought in the back of his mind that will haunt him for the next few weeks.  _ What if. _

They stand together for a few minutes, waiting for their breathing to sync and for her to relax. It’s calming, to have her trust him enough again to let everything go. She isn’t guarded or distant, but rather present and needy. A small possessive part of him missed this. “Alright kiddo,” he finally speaks up, effectively popping the emotional bubble. “I think we should get going, eh? We’ve got a long day ahead of us.” 

She nods, a true ‘Tessa ’ smile sliding over her face.

“Hey, there’s the smile I love so much.” His lips ghost over her forehead before releasing her. “And if you can keep that smile, there may or may not be a chocolate croissant as a reward.” She sticks her tongue out at him, grabbing the handle of her suitcase.

“Bribing me with food? Nice try, Moir, but you’re going to have to try harder than that.” 

With that, she slips out the door with a smirk, leaving him alone in the room, grinning widely. 

_ God, I love her so much.  _

“Scott?” Her voice rings out from down the hall. “I’m waiting for my prize.” 

“Coming T!” Taking a deep breath, he hurries out to meet her so they can head to the bus together. 

__

“So things went better than expected?” His therapist crosses her legs, jotting down a few notes.

“Well-- yes and no.” Scott looks up from his fingers, which had become tangled together. “I think everything is ok again? I’m not really sure. We had some pretty rocky moments but we also had some great moments.” He lets his gaze drift away from her prying eyes to smile at the wall. “Some really,  _ really _ great moments.” 

In an adjacent room a similar conversation is occurring, with Tessa sitting cross legged on the floor by the window in the sunlight. Her own therapist is attempting to match Tessa’s level of comfort by joining her, (uncomfortably) on the floor. “So there were a couple of things,” she nods, recognizing the fallouts that had occured, “But we did good. Open communication was a lot better.”

“And did you manage to cross anything off your list?” 

She shakes her head vigorously. “I mean one thing sure. But I wasn’t really focusing on that.”

Her therapist represses a groan. “Tessa, we have to work on paring that list down. You won’t feel so overwhelmed the more we can get rid of. Over half the things on the list have to do with Scott.”

Tessa looks down, hoping to hide the blush spreading across her face and neck like wildfire. She didn’t have to bring  _ that  _ up. 

Her therapist pats the low coffee table, “Let’s take a closer look at this and work through it together.” Tessa nods, settling her notebook open on the page and begins the discussion.

Scott feels like he’s ready to cross multiple things off his list when his therapist brings it up in his own session. He looks at the tattered paper, reminding himself of the issues he grapples with. “I-I think I’ve got a handle on expectations,” he says, rubbing his finger against the ghost of stubble on his chin.  

“How so?” his therapist questions.

“Just… I think with the last month or so of focusing on me. My personal expectations in where I’m going right now...has me realizing that this idea that people have expectations for me are, for one, mostly in my head. People are really just hoping that I do well and that I’m happy.”

She smiles and nods, handing over a black sharpie, “Go for it.” He can’t help but smile as he picks up the black sharpie and crosses off the first word on the list.

\---

“So you crossed off pity?”

“I was able to talk with my sister and tell her how I felt when people around me treated me like I was going to break at any second.”

“That’s good. And you two were able to talk openly about how that made you really feel? Not just the surface base feelings?”

“It was hard but... I did it.”

Her therapist gives her a supportive smile. “Were you able to use this openness with Scott as well?” 

“We were certainly open but--” she tries not to think back to her drunken escapades, too embarrassed to even want to tell her therapist. “There were moments where we couldn’t seem to crack each other. I think we’re on the right track though.” 

The confused look on the older woman’s face has her biting her lip in frustration. No one will ever understand them.

“Let me get this straight. You two were more open, but are still unable to connect?”

“We decided to come back to competition.” She wants to kick herself with the admission. “Please-- please don’t tell anyone I told you that.”

“Wow, big decision! Congratulations, but I think I need more of the full story here. Fill me in on times you missed each other and times you fixed it.” 

\---

“Scott, guilt...it’s going to be a hard one. This guilt is coupled with a bit of depression and that’s going to be something that we’re going to keep working on; it’s not going to happen overnight. I think you’ve done well.” She holds up the list in front of her, examining the crossed out words of expectation and anger. “I’m really proud of you for using all the tips we talked about for calming down.” She nods with a smile. 

“Yeah,” Scott shrugs, “They work.” He runs his hand through his hair, “I still hurt...but..okay this might sound sick but watching Tessa hurt…” He looks out towards the window, the images of her staggering down the hall and clutching him in her the hotel room. “...make me feel...normal.” He pauses for a moment before continuing, “Like that girl, oh man… she’s…” he shakes his head, a stupid grin plastered on his face, trying to explain the wonderment, “She’s the most amazing girl, who’s got a million good things going for her, but seeing her struggle too…”

His therapist nods like she understands everything he's saying but he knows she doesn’t. She doesn’t know half the wonder of Tessa Jane Virtue. Doesn’t know how she learned how to walk again or is more than halfway through an undergraduate degree with three Olympic medals in tow. She doesn’t even come close to knowing.

“Seeing someone you admire, feeling things that you’re feeling makes you feel better. Because it’s relatable.”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t even try to hide the lovesick smile that spreads from side to side. “It’s hard though you know? Because as nice as it feels to know she feels like me--”

“You hate to see her like that.”

“Sometimes I find it hurts more. Is that weird?”

“No, of course not. When the people we love are hurting, we internalize their pain.” 

Scott scoffs, thinking back to the dance floor in Saskatchewan and the strenuous climb in China. “She made it very clear when we were away that she doesn’t feel the same way though.” His eyes widen as he realizes his mistake.

“No I mean-- I didn’t mean to change the subject I just--” he wants to curl up in a ball when he sees the slight smirk on the therapist’s face. 

“Scott, we know how you feel about her, that isn’t novel information.” She prods gently. “But I’m sensing new emotions here.”

“For her sake, I want them not to exist anymore. I don’t want things to be awkward or for her to feel uncomfortable ‘cause I can’t just squash my feelings.” His mind wanders to the small moments where his heart felt ready to burst from a quirk of the lips or bat of the eye. Each giggle and every smile he stores away to replay when he’s sad or in need of a pick me up. Just scrolling through her instagram late at night is enough to put him back on track. 

It might be bordering on obsessive.    


“She told me point blank that I’m not going to have to worry about what she said in Scotland. She’s apparently ‘dealt with it.’” 

“I wish I could tell you that you could ‘wish’ away these feelings but you can’t and certainly Tessa can’t. I think what you should tell yourself right now is to focus on rebuilding your friendship. Give yourself at least the summer to just build back what you’ve lost. You’re going to have weeks where things feel pretty great and you’re going to have days where you think you’re back at square one. So really channel everything you’re feeling for her into fixing the mistakes and being brutally honest about everything. I think if you two could have a brutally honest conversation about your recovery processes, then going forward this process can be a lot less about navigating each other and more about supporting each other.”

“I’m not-- I’m not going to tell her how I feel.” He can’t help but stare at her incredulously as if she’d just asked him to dance with Kaitlyn Weaver. “She can never know. I get the honesty thing but the rest... that’s just too much. I love her too much to put her in a position where she needs to make a choice. Tessa will agonize over it. And with her heart no longer in it, she’d just feel cornered. I have to accept that I ruined that kind of bond between us. We can be friends again, I know we can, but the rest will likely not happen.”

“Is that necessarily a bad thing?” 

“To fall in love with me?” He jokes drily. “I hope it’s not a bad thing to fall in love with me.” 

“You remaining friends.”

“No no, of course not.” He tries to push away the sinking feeling that usually accompanies this discussion. “I just have to um-- figure out how I’m going to come to terms with losing-- I mean… her moving on. She’s too perfect a woman to be alone you know? How do I not spend the next two years following her around like a puppy while she meets her soulmate. A kind Frenchman with eye for fashion and--”   
  


“Scott, I think we’re getting a bit off topic here. Bottom line is… let’s not make conclusions today. About any of that. Today you commit to fixing your friendship.”

“I commit,” Scott jokes, holding his hand up as if he was taking an oath.

Tessa is laughing in her session as well, feeling light and airy after narrowing her list of 55 bulleted items to a mere 14. “I can manage fourteen! We can get there.” She doesn’t realistically think she will be able to easily fix the first point that emcompasses all the Scott-eseque things under one ‘umbrella term’, but she’ll let it go. 

“You’re going to get there Tessa, I’m optimistic. Now, I would like to know about why you got drunk enough to puke in the hotel hallway.”

“Ugh,” Tessa smacks her hand to her forehead. “Skating with him…it’s worse than taking ecstasy...no wait that’s not right. It’s better than taking ecstasy. It feels like…” she searches her vocabulary for the right words. “Ethereal, like in a good performance when we’re really in it. I don’t even think, it’s like breathing in sync with someone.” Tessa leans forward to see if her therapist is understanding, but her lips are pressed in a quizzical line and she’s not sure how to explain it better.

“Basically, coming down from a really really good skate is like a hangover on steroids…” She does note for a moment that as an Olympic ice skater on hiatus she should not know the name of so many drugs. She covers her face when she continues, “I feel things I’m not supposed to feel.”

“Things that you’re not allowed to feel or don’t want to feel?”

\---

“But seriously Scott, don’t psych yourself out about this kind of stuff. Tessa is on her own path to recovery and will come to terms with how she feels at her own pace. I understand how hard it must be for you right now but trust me when I say things will eventually start to even out. You two will have your ups and downs, that's normal but--”

“I know, but our ups and downs are so extreme. I spent the first few months after Sochi drinking myself through London.” He chuckles darkly. “Even with Kaitlyn I couldn’t seem to get myself back into place with life or skating. You know, before… drinking was my escape. From almost everything. Never from Tessa though-- I never wanted to escape from her. Forget how I failed her? Yes, but not forget her. And sure things got worse before eventually everything was ok again. In China-- the night before we left she um, she got drunk and I just couldn’t-- couldn’t understand at first why she felt like she needed to drink to let go of everything that had gone on. We hadn’t had a particularly stressful show or anything. I realized not long after she vomited in the hall-- don’t tell anyone I told you that-- that she was drinking-- to forget me. She was hurting because of me and I can’t even begin to understand how time will fix that. Even with our openness, I drove her to a point where she couldn’t bear to look at me.” 

“Slow down there… you realized...you decided that you were the reason she was drunk. That’s not at all how that works. You don’t get to blame yourself for this, so you hold on to this and you ask her why...don’t assume. Also, you said that you drank to forget how you’ve failed her. You don’t think part of her feels like she’s maybe failed you.” 

Scott stares down at his lap, listening to her words. Thinking back to that night and the morning after,  _ please don’t carry around anything hurtful I might of said or done. _ She was right. Tessa. His therapist. They’re both right. He lets out a large puff of air and nods.

\---

“Both, I shouldn’t feel them. And I just kept drinking to forget the rules that I’ve made for myself and I just...I wanted to forget that I’m not supposed to feel that way. I wanted to hold him and not suppress that feeling I get in my chest.” She clutches the collar on her shirt, spilling out more about the ‘Scottesque stuff’ than she has pretty much ever in her therapy session. This is a breakthrough despite Tessa not enjoying it. This is necessary.

“I had gotten so good,” she purses her lips, angry at no one but herself. “We could hang out and have a good time and I could be content with just that. But skating...skating fucks it all--” She covers her mouth with her hand, her eyes going wide. “I didn’t mean to swear, I’m so sorry. Please don’t judge me for that.” 

“Tessa,” she says gently. “It’s ok to just let it out, even if that means using a couple dirty words.”

“Right. It’s just skating makes me feel all those things again.”

“What things?”

“Things that I haven’t let myself feel since Scotland.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, the admission burning through her throat. She is shocked and somewhat disgusted at herself for allowing the tears that gather in the corners of her eyes. “I pushed everything down so far because we aren’t allowed to be that way. He doesn’t share those feelings and I don’t— my heart—“

“I know, Tessa. It’s okay to be confused about these types of things. No one is going to judge you for that. And I don’t think it’s fair to convince yourself that repression is the best tactic. I think you and Scott are working towards solid enough ground where you can open these difficult conversations up and explore the tough emotions.”

“I could never!” She practically squeaks in protest. “That’s not fair to Scott. We tried the whole honesty thing before and I would never make him go through that again. He should be able to move on without that kind of admission weighing on him.”

“And what kind of admission would that be.”

Tessa bites her lip. “That— that I feel so deeply beyond just friends.” Saying it makes everything seem more realistic. Like she can’t escape an admission even if she tries. “I can’t tell exactly what it is but even after falling apart there’s no one else I would rather be around. No one else I’d rather tell everything to or experience everything with. He’s— he’s the only person I still trust even if my heart doesn’t want to. He’s my Scott.” 

When the time hits the hour mark, Scott is on his feet, having wrapped up a few minutes early and content to sit on the couch while his therapist types up her notes. He walks over to the door, turning over his shoulder to say goodbye. 

Tessa hears his hearty voice saying goodbye and she pulls the door open her body reacting before her mind. 

He’s not sure who reaches for who first but the second they step into the narrow hall her body is pressed against his and his arms are squeezing her small frame.

She can feel his breath steadfast on her cheek and her own heartbeat pounding against his chest. 

He slips his arms lower down her back to rest on her hips, her arms leaving his neck to rest on his forearms.

Her eyes stay down for a moment, taking in the way they still clutch each other for dear life. When her eyes flutter up, they meets a perfect mirror in his. 


End file.
